


Wallflower

by JunKisho



Series: Beautiful wreckage [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Advisor Yakov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Assassin Phichit, Assassin Yurio, Assassin/Bodyguard Otabek, Assassin/Noble Chris, Assassin/Tutor Minako, Assassins, Director Lilia, Eventual Fluff, Explicit description of abuse, Explicit fight scenes, Illicit omega sex trafficking ring, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, King Viktor, M/M, Prince Vitaly, Sexual Abuse, Viktor's twin, Who is who, assassin yuuri, mentions of abuse, royal family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunKisho/pseuds/JunKisho
Summary: Twins - opposite side of the same fair, royal coin.Omegas - pawns that move freely within their cages.A court entangled in a web of deceit and seductive intents. A keep of assassins nestled within. Viciousness and ferocity carefully contained and restrained within their petite frames. Omega blood running deep in their veins and bones, feral instincts hidden behind veneers of smiles and scents.Yuuri would show them the claws of an omega.





	1. Keeper

Nimble fingers tugged at the cuffs of the ebony morning coat, before reaching to adjust the wide black tie. Underneath the coat were an ivory collared dress shirt and an ash-grey vest that fitted snugly against the lithe frame, whilst a pair of tapered, dark grey pants lovingly hugged the well-defined legs. The whole ensemble was completed with a pair of white gloves and slicked back hair. Clear russet brown eyes perused his reflection in the attendant’s room’s full-length mirror, a small satisfied smile breaking out to mark his approval.

It was the start of the summer holidays and 18-year-old Katsuki Yuuri was taking up a plethora of odd jobs in a bid to stay financially independent. This evening, he was hired by one of the rich to be a server for the biannual charity gala, held in an opulent mansion that towered all other neighbouring houses within the Citrine district. The party was starting to liven up as lavishly dressed guests mingled around the ballroom, making idle chatter with their business partners.

With an exhaled breath to steady his nerves, Yuuri plastered on a warm smile and released a tiny hint of sweet omega pheromones that clung onto his uniform and enhanced his overall pleasant demeanour. Yuuri hastily ducked into the kitchen to grab a silver tray, loaded it with flutes of bubbling champagne and quick-footed his way out into the ballroom to start his duties.

Two hours later and the gala was in full swing; couples breaking off to dance nearer the string quintet, silk-clad bodies swaying to the crooning of harmonised strings. Yuuri gracefully weaved through the crowd, retrieving used flutes and plates while plying the guests with more. Whenever Yuuri turned to leave for the next guest, the surrounding alphas and betas would unconsciously incline towards his retreating figure, his unique scent of light cherry blossoms and fresh rainwater tickling the edges of their senses. Tittering with pleasant surprise, the guests would then try to locate the source of the quickly dissipating fragrance but to no avail.

“Sir Abrynn, would you like a new flute of champagne?” Yuuri demurely asked, eyes cast downwards in servitude as he encroached upon a group of alpha males discussing trade issues.

 Abrynn Banes, a well-built figure fitted in a bespoke suit of forest green, smiled genially and acquiesced, handing his empty flute to Yuuri. However, before Yuuri could take his leave, Abrynn placed a firm hand on his shoulder and took a cursory whiff.  Light green irises widened as Yuuri’s heady omega scent engulfed his olfactory senses, warmth slowly filling his whole body.

“You have a very intriguing and dare I say, almost addictive fragrance, my dear.” Abrynn complimented. “My heart has been shot straight through by your loveliness. I certainly wouldn’t mind being shot dead by you,” he jokingly continued, flirtatiously caressing the last few words with hooded eyes. His companions nodded with shaky smiles in agreement.

“You flatter me so, kind Sir,” Yuuri demurred, cheeks tinting a light pink under the praise.

“We would like dessert now; just pick the sweetest one, won’t you?”

“Yes Sir. Right away, Sir.”

 Yuuri politely bowed to the group of five men, made haste towards the kitchen. His figure was followed through the crowd by five pairs of aroused, hungry eyes as the alphas anxiously awaited his return. Yuuri conveyed the host’s requests to the cook and soon enough, his tray was piled with more flutes and an array of sweet cakes.

An order was an order after all.

The gala continued on to the wee hours of the morning, before tired guests trickled out of the mansion and into horse-drawn carts to slowly make their way back home. Yuuri left two hours later, after helping the other servants to clean up. He only managed to trudge up the back doors of his home, in the Garnet district, when the sky started to lighten up, salmon pink rays peeking through the clouds in the horizon. A fast shower later and Yuuri fell asleep almost immediately upon collapsing onto his bed. A bag of coins was thrown haphazardly onto his desk, his hard-earned payment for that night.

It was almost noon when a horrified shriek pierced through the serenity at the far side of the town, from Citrine. Not long after, hurried gallops and heavy boots thudded across the cobblestones upon receiving the gruesome notification. Constables clad in navy uniform entered the immaculate opulence, led to the master bedroom by a shaking, terrified maid. Abrynn laid naked on his four-poster bed, face contorted as though to savour the last fleeting vestiges of pleasure.

Orders were barked out, rooms were cordoned off and all the servants were questioned thoroughly. Suspicions were cast, flitting across various groups of people as they slowly certified their alibi the night before. However, every single person failed to recall the raven beauty with the seductive scent; his looks were too plain, easily blending in with the other black hair, dark-eyed folks regardless of secondary gender.

And Yuuri continued to slumber in peace, unaware of the afternoon commotion that steadily tore apart the seams of safety in the district of Citrine. He remained blissfully ignorant of the massive cover up that had to be done urgently, and oblivious to figures clad in midnight garments, heading towards a small cottage hidden in the outskirts of the town. Hooves clopped in a hurry, pulling along sturdy wooden carriages.

The aftermath of the ordeal was dealt with precision and haste. The search for Abrynn’s murderer began in earnest. An undercurrent of unease blanketed Citrine, the wealthy folks refusing to step a single foot outside the safety of their ornate doors. However, whispers of contempt, derision and karmic vengeance rioted in the districts of Garnet, Apatite and Kyanite; Abrynn deserved it for all the illegal trade he had done. Now the common people will have one less fear to be wary of.

At a quarter to three, bleary eyes blinked against the harsh sunlight, the owner languidly stretching his limber muscles awake. He washed up in a sleep-fogged daze, dressing in loose navy pants and a worn-out maroon shirt.

It was time for his next job.

* * *

Yuuri entered a two storey, off white bungalow that was nestled in between other similar buildings in the neighbouring streets of Apatite. Greeting the servants who were dusting the foyer, he made his way noiselessly to the second floor and knocked on oaken doors at the end of the hallway. Upon receiving permission, Yuuri went in, quietly shutting the heavy doors to ensure privacy.

“The job was done, there were no complications,” Yuuri reported with ease.

“I know; it was a very clean kill. The constables were in a frenzy, trying to find the perpetrator a few hours ago. But we managed to quieten their thirst for justice when we slipped them the trade deals that Abrynn was knee deep in,” a steady lilt from the alpha commended his skills. A slender figure with sharp contours and piercing green gaze, Lilia Baranovskaya struck an imposing image while seated behind a massive mahogany table, currently empty of paperwork, alpha pheromones oozing confidence and control.

“The rest will be back soon. I have received word that they have secured the omegas and betas in one of our safe houses to recuperate. They will be returned to their families once the commotion has died down,” Lilia continued briskly. “We will be commencing the hunt for Abrynn’s accomplices tonight, before they start fleeing. Make your preparations and be back here in three hours.”

With Lilia’s dismissal, Yuuri left the study and made his way to the underground training room. A quick greeting was made with a couple of other trainees present and sparring. He headed towards the far wall and slid open a wooden-panelled door to access the weapons room. Carefully selecting through an assortment of weaponry, Yuuri exited with a handful of daggers, two short swords and a garrotte, gingerly placing them in his designated cubby. He removed his glasses and started to warm up. It wouldn’t kill to start training and keep his muscles limber for later anyway.


	2. Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter might be a little uncomfortable for some readers since there are mentions of (implicit & explicit) sexual harassment. Read with caution.

Soft rustling of leaves echoed after the light tumbling of footsteps that flitted across uneven rooftops. Shadows stretched and thinned under the watchful gaze of the crescent moon, occasionally obscured by thick clouds that hung low and heavy.

It wasn’t long before eight figures landed with feline grace on varying rooftops encircling the town centre’s silent fountain. Garbed in jet black long-sleeved turtlenecks underneath hooded jackets and form-fitting pants, tucked into soft leathered boots, they stood silent, waiting for orders. With the occasional shifting from rapid hand communication, soft moonlight glanced off steely weapons strapped firmly on the lean figures. Masks of ebony, streaked with grey and silver, veiled their identities, with only hints of sharpened tints from their eye colours partially visible. With decisive nods, they paired up and scattered in four different directions.

The hunt was on.

Yuuri found himself back within the grandiose mansions overcrowding Citrine, a mere day after the deserved demise of Abrynn, scaling walls, and finally landing in a garden overflowing with budding flora. A muffled thump beside him signalled the arrival of his long-time partner. Wary eyes scanned the surroundings before shooting towards a nondescript door hidden just slightly behind a thorny rose bush. Gloved hands inserted picks into the locked door, jiggling and tugging with sharp accuracy. An almost undetectable click reverberated through the metal picks and the wooden door swung open on whiny hinges, brought to a premature silence by swift hands that halted its progress.

Stale air and preternatural stillness greeted them as they prowled through the mansion. Alarmed, they raced towards the barn, boots skidding to a sudden stop at the sight of the barn doors swinging desolately under the moonlight. The horses and carriages – gone. Without delay, the pair followed the muddied tracks that led out of the mansion by the back and into the wilderness beyond. Past the second copse of trees, the tracks diverted, one heading southwest while the other continued east.

They split up without needing a whisper of acknowledgement or confirmation, sure in their years of partnership. Yuuri merely shared a quick glance with his partner, reassuring each other that they’d meet back at the headquarters. Yuuri forged on eastward, boots squelching in the runny mud, weapons a familiar weight against his forearms, back and across the length of his legs.

Wind whistled across his hood-covered ears as Yuuri pumped his legs to gain even more ground. The woods were alive with the nocturnal predators, the bays and yowls of large cats occasionally piercing through. The Meirneth family, the currently fleeing target, probably had a two to three hours head-start, plus the fact that they were on horse-drawn carriage further increased the distance between them. Yuuri ran a cursory exploration through his mental map; there would be a small town, primarily acting as a pit stop between major towns, reachable within the next hour at his current pace. He crossed his fingers that they’d decided to stop for a break, and upped his speed to close the distance between them.

When Yuuri reached the small town, orange glows from the hung lanterns complementing the peaceful night, he was dismayed for there was neither horse nor an ostentatious-looking carriage in the open or hidden. Yuuri walked briskly towards the largest guesthouse, rounded it and rapped on the wooden doors that led to the kitchens. The door creaked open, a wary eye scanning his weapon-clad attire and white bone mask, eyes widening in recognition.

“Did a horse and carriage pass by this way?” Yuuri asked, voice muffled and unrecognizable beneath the mask.

“Yes sir, but the horse and carriage had left almost immediately after dropping off two of the passengers,” the kitchenboy reported without preamble. “They have checked into our finest room for the night.” Yuuri slid him four copper coins for the information in thanks, and a silver coin to keep things hush; to remind them that the Guild is still one of their loyal patrons.

Less than ten heartbeats later, Yuuri was rapping on the heavy door, located at the end of the hallway on the highest floor, smirking as he mockingly called out, “Room service, supper is here.” The door swung wide open in naïve trust, a portly, middle-aged male wearing an expression of hungry anticipation, marred with surprise and fear when he finally took in who was really in front of him. Yuuri entered the room with predatory intent, swinging the door shut behind him as he crossed the threshold and beyond.

“Don’t be worried,” Yuuri purred, releasing calming omega pheromones mockingly, but to no avail. Their alpha stench soured in putrid fear, knees visibly knocking against each other, although their instinctive alpha reaction to Yuuri’s scent flashed uncontrollably across their dilated pupils, evidence straining hard against their pants. Yuuri’s scent sweetened in approval and appreciation, as he stalked towards them, intent on having his fill of supper.

Yuuri reached the first man – the one who opened the door to his demise, and twisted his neck within the next heartbeat. The other opened his mouth to scream, but all that left was a choked exhale when Yuuri aimed a kick towards his gut and snapped his neck. No blood stains – they are notoriously difficult to remove. Before returning to headquarters, Yuuri made sure to loot the whole room of valuable evidence of the underground slave trade. And then he was off, the assets carried by the Meirneth left behind as a peace offering to the owners of the guesthouse.

* * *

The next afternoon, Yuuri gingerly made my way to the safehouse where the rescued slaves were housed in. To his absolute horror, the slaves who were staying in the safehouse ranged from freshly-presented omegas to protective betas, all of them tense and wary at any movements and noise from the main doors. In the kindest voice and open body language he could muster, Yuuri spoke to the traumatized omegas in soft tones, all the while releasing calm pheromones to state his non-intentions to harm and to let them be aware of his similar omega status. Soon enough, the tense wariness that stiffened their muscles when Yuuri had initially walked in relaxed marginally, accepting of his extended help.

Internally, he was furious at the slave traders, horrified that even omega children as young as 13 were kidnapped and embroiled in the human trafficking mess. Yuuri could still taste the fear intertwined within each of the slave’s natural scent, the same fear that lingered deep within the recesses of his memories of his various kidnapping attempts. All the attempts made because of his premature awakening of his secondary gender at the tender age of ten. The first three kidnappings were shot down quickly by Minako, his dance-turned-assassin teacher, who never failed to find him within a couple of hours. But the fourth raked scars deep within his heart, that made Yuuri vow to exterminate human trafficking from his homelands and beyond, especially trafficking of omegas to sell them as sex slaves.

Yuuri excused himself from the group of omegas and betas and ran towards a small clearing of trees a couple of miles away from the safehouse. His harrowing experiences, once dull in the recesses of his mind, came alive in an almighty roar after he had met those rescued. Intruding into the forefront, making themselves known, forcing Yuuri to his knees, breaths a heavy staccato rhythm as he sought to wrestle control over the memories that assaulted him.

* * *

_14 year-old Yuuri was out in the streets of Apatite, strolling through the grand summer fair, savouring the ice popsicle that made the summer heat a little more bearable. He had just turned into a quieter street near the far end of the erected tents, when three pairs of large, calloused hands roughly clamped across his torso and legs, the last shoving wet cloth over his nose and mouth, the little glass animals he’d bought not too long ago clattering onto the stone ground and crunched into pieces under moving legs. Instinctively, Yuuri held his breath and struggled to break free. However, his self-defense training was for naught as one of the captors released him briefly to only land a solid punch in his gut, forcing Yuuri to sharply inhale in pain, and then body relaxed into a boneless slumber under duress._

 

_Russet eyes blinked open, forcing away the vestiges of the drugs that kept him, and then in sudden alertness as his memories rushed him. The claws of panic dug in hard and fast, made worse when he found himself complete bare, his hands cuffed to the headrest of a small cot. Yuuri scrambled for control over his breathing, to quell the unhelpful panic. He snapped his head back and forth, trying to get a sense of his current situation to only meet with eleven other similar cots holding others captive within a small, windowless room. Omegas, he realized belatedly, as the terrified scents interweaving an omega’s natural sweetness inundated his senses. He was in the midst of an omega trafficking scene, highly likely the underground omega sex slavery trade._

 

_Eyes scanned his immediate vicinity for tools to break free of his cuffs but all around him were nothing. Not even a thin sheet to cover any of their modesty. The ebony door, two beds down from his right, abruptly swung open to reveal vultures, ready to devour their carrion. Unchecked lust and anticipation ran through the eyes of the alphas that were briskly walking in to find their respective omegas. The heavy, sickening scent of bitter arousal from the alphas clashing with the omega’s sour fear that was even rooted within the stench of slick forcefully produced with the presence of the gathered, ravenous alphas._

 

_A fairly tall blond strode right up to Yuuri’s bed and ran an eye to peruse him, eyes that screamed My Property. Deft hands ran up Yuuri’s calves and towards his softened member, giving it a firm pump. The blond head lowered as though to have a small taste of the slowly hardening member. Yuuri struck. It was their mistake._

 

_Yuuri looped his legs around the blond’s neck and was about to give a vicious, sharp twist to end his misery when he was stopped by an alpha’s command._

 

_“Stop! Cease and desist,” a low growl from the doors rang out, his Alpha Voice lacing his words with threat. “Release your legs and spread them out. Do not move.”_

 

_Despite the order being meant only for Yuuri, the other omegas were also similarly affected. Twelve pairs of eyes glazed over as their omega side wrestled and won control, dutifully spreading their legs for the smirking alphas._

 

_“I was intending to slowly ease you in before you pulled that stunt,” the blond’s reeking breath mockingly caressed Yuuri's ears. “When I first saw you on the stage, all knocked out but still lovely and pretty, I knew that I had to get you. I would have given everything to you but I suppose I would need to teach you a lesson first.” There weren't any pauses in his words as he quickly unbuckled his belt and released the erect, weeping cock dripping with clear pre-cum, for he was already drunk on the heady mixture of sweet omega, sour fear and bitter anger emanating from Yuuri in undulating waves._

 

_Without any preparation whatsoever, the blond alpha shoved the blunt head into Yuuri's dry hole, eliciting a mere whimper of pain from Yuuri for he was still under the thrall of the Alpha Voice. An internal war waged within Yuuri, screams of pain that burned fire-hot at the unwanted and unprepared intrusion, from his nerves to his stretched out muscled, creating a cacophonous din in his head as he screamed and screamed silently. Twin tracks of tears, of humiliation, scarred his cheeks permanently, the only outward sign of his agony._

 

_Every ridge of the alpha’s cock was felt deep within Yuuri, the sensation magnified by the lack of slick to help lubricate the slide. In mere minutes, the alpha thrusted almost uncontrollably, frenzied and rapid, before pulling out and spilling thick and hot liquid all over Yuuri's abdomen. Chest heaving, the alpha ran a satisfied eye over the debauched omega, yet missing the drops of blood that stained the sheets beneath him from the rough manhandling. He quickly cleaned himself up and left the room with the other alphas, who were also done claiming their purchased omegas, as he awaited for his possession to be cleaned up and ready for travel._

 

_Throughout the whole ordeal and clean up, Yuuri remained under the influence of the Alpha’s voice. As he was transferred from his holding room, in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, to the awaiting carriage, he could only numbly rove his eyes around the sprawling courtyard that decorated the front of the mansion he had just exited from. Slowly but surely cataloguing every single hint and clue, every nook and cranny visible to him, that would help me recognize this vile place after he left._

 

_Halfway through the ride to his captive’s abode, his motor functioning returned to his overly relaxed limbs, arranged by the alpha to be sprawled all over him. Affirming that he had enough energy, Yuuri struck at the alpha, hard. Sharp elbow brought down to the alpha’s groin in one vengeful stroke, using the momentum to propel his clenched fist upwards to land a solid punch on his nose, the satisfying crunch of broken cartilage music to Yuuri. In the next move, the alpha was dead, neck snapped into an unnatural angle._

 

_The carriage had stopped when the alpha gave a loud yell of pain when Yuuri first attacked, and the doors flung open to reveal the bodyguard, shocked at his master's death by the vindictive omega seated within. With nary a sound, he leapt for the bodyguard, pushing him backwards and laying a high kick that shattered the guard’s jaw. Yuuri followed through with a sharp and swift hand jab towards his throat, then an elbow that slammed down on the back of the guard’s neck. The fight was over after Yuuri finally grasped his neck none too gently and twisted viciously._

 

 _The deaths of his rapist filled Yuuri with vindictive satisfaction, his thirst for payback quenched. However it was short-lived for his instincts were screaming at him to get away, to run to somewhere safe before the corpses were found. Pure adrenaline forced the rising bile, over his first kills, back down his throat, as he hastily but shakily unbridled the horse and took off bareback, galloping towards a random direction in a bid to just exit the sinister dark forest._  

 

_Yuuri rode for two days straight, only stopping for short rest water breaks. By the time he reached the outskirts of Adenite, Yuuri was ready to collapse off the equally exhausted horse, both of them pushed to the brink to race back to safety. He led the horse to a small grove, before trekking back the remaining journey by himself. He carefully navigated through the busy afternoon streets, eyes cast downwards lest he was recognized, ears peeled for trouble, muscles tense yet ready to let loose at the first sign of danger._

 

_Thankfully, he managed to reach the back doors of his hotsprings home, located in the heart of the touristy streets of Garnet, rapping them in three short bursts. Moments of silence passed before the doors cracked open warily, pairs of brown eyes similar to his own widening in a myriad of surprise, relief and bloodthirst as they took in his state. A rather telling state, Yuuri mused cynically, for Mari was emanating bloodlust so strong at the evident, unknown alpha scent clogging his pores. His omega side blatantly wept at the protectiveness of his alpha sister, at the abuse he suffered under the hands of sexually-deprived, self-centred alpha bastards; Yuuri couldn't help but fall into Mari’s embrace, valiantly hoping that Mari’s unique blend of smoky cigarette mixed with petrichor could wash away the taint of the blond alpha._

 

_He was home; he was safe._


	3. Fighter

“I was informed about an active human trafficking ring happening in Adenite, with special attention and price paid for Omegas to be sex slaves,” a velvety, low voice rang out with deceptive calm. The King of Adenite, Viktor Nikiforov, was furious with the abhorrent operations carried out under his nose. “With the Minister of _Trade,_ of all people, being involved in this decrepit and ending up dead by an unknown assassin's hands.” A pointed look of veiled derision was directed towards the empty chair where the late Minister, Abrynn, once sat.

“I will not tolerate any of these human trade, trafficking or slavery whatsoever. They will be banned from today onward, honorable council members. I trust that you agree with me that these practices infringe upon our basic human rights, and are deplorable,” Viktor’s icy blue eyes assessed the gathered Ministers within the Council Room, his voice edged with authoritative steel in a challenge. “Send word to all the authorities and to the whole city on this new decree: whoever found caught in human trafficking and/or slavery will be prosecuted harshly. They will face a death penalty, by the new law.” His tone of absolute unforgiveness, augmented by a burst of spicy pheromones that signalled pure alpha dominance, brooked no rebuke nor opposition from any of his ministers.

“They will be seen to and executed immediately, Your Majesty,” an identical steely croon from Viktor’s immediate right reassured. A lean figure swathed in rich navy finery, every lines from his face to his frame, to even the current austere, frosty demeanor a mirror image of his older twin brother.

“That will be all for today. Let us adjourn the council meeting.” Nervous shuffles of chairs and feet exited the room with haste, escaping from their Monarch’s vengeful ire from the past week’s abhorrent events.

When the last Minister finally left and shut the door to provide privacy for the two royals who had remained behind, the King let loose an angry sigh, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

“Vitaly, I will leave this whole affair to you. Make sure that the whole trafficking business is completely purged and exterminated,” the weary King ordered.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Prince Vitaly replied with a slightly cocky salute.

“I await excellence from you, Vitaly.”

“Count on me, brother.”

* * *

True to his words, the new decree was ringing throughout the whole city and beyond its borders the following day. Sowing seeds of hope for better protection for the defenseless citizens.

“How odd, for the king to issue this new decree now when for the past few years since his ascension, he had been ignoring this side of Adenite,” a wry tone from a tan omega commented in the study of the Assassin's Keep.

“Let us not look the gift horse in the mouth, Phichit,” a tall, lean blond replied, his wariness more subdued than the omega. They were both seated on the couch in the left corner of the large study.

“You have to admit it strange though, Chris,” Phichit pressed on, suspicions growing as he kept analyzing the sudden change in heart of his ruler. Christophe merely shrugged his shoulders in vague agreement.

“Ever since King Viktor ascended the throne two years back, his primary focus had always been on rebuilding Adenite at any cost. We did get into a scuffle with our neighbours just before our late king and queen died, but the actions by the current king when he first inherited the throne were insidious,” Phichit continued in vexation.

“You speak of the time when King Viktor imprisoned the denizens of our neighbour after the conflict and forced them into slavery at our jewel mines,” Christophe hushed in quiet anger, in remembrance of the atrocity.

“Nowadays, it is becoming more prominent that citizens of Adenite are the ones kidnapped into slavery. Moreover, omegas are becoming the selling point of the slave trade. And the kidnapping and trafficking of omegas to sex slavery is on the rise. Maybe that’s why the king decided to step in,” Yuuri intervened. He was leaning against the bookshelf opposite the two in casual grace, dressed in his all-black work clothes and leather boots, knives tucked neatly into their holsters.

“You’re implying that if the slave trade and trafficking mainly focus on betas and alphas, and if our own people weren’t involved, they would most likely continue without the new decree coming into effect this quickly?” Christophe sought confirmation, brows raised in distaste at his king’s possible bias.

“Do not forget about the archaic laws that prize omegas in Adenite. They are bound to be protected in some form or another. And the ruling powers always protect their own,” a new, crisp feminine voice answered as the doors to the study snicked shut. “We will discuss this at length at another time. Katsuki, Giacometti, we are starting our mission briefing. Chulanont, prepare for the arrival of two guests in the evening,” Lilia ordered briskly. Yuuri and Christophe hastily sat in front of her heavy mahogany tables while Phichit rushed out to complete his duties.

“We have two important persons to retrieve later on tonight. Bring them over by midnight. They have been previously briefed about their temporary accommodations in our Keep. They must remain hidden and safe from public view. The same goes to the both of you. You’ll find them at The Pits in the evening; I sent them over for early reconnaissance to see if they can find anything new about our current situation. These are their details; memorise and return them to me before you leave. Questions?” Lilia slid two black folders across the mahogany table.

Yuuri glanced through them briefly before shaking his head in a negative answer. Christophe, however, let out a whistle of surprise. “Him? This is one person I never expected to see. We’ll definitely have to keep them safe, or our heads will roll.”

The only response he got was a small smirk gracing Lilia’s aristocratic features.

* * *

The Pits was located underground, beneath the streets of Kyanite - a place for gambling and for information. It was dark, dank, and damp with a lingering stench of acidic urine and metallic blood. The light bulbs lining the rocky caverns gave off a muted glow, casting shadows upon the rocks and across the various figures milling around the large arena where the fights occur. To the sides of the arena, booths were carved into the rocks where spectators could sit, drink and watch on slightly elevated grounds. A long, dingy bar sat nestled at the far end of the cavern, to keep the bottles and bartender safe from the brawls.

Yuuri and Christophe prowled through the crowds, hooded, looking for their charges. After an hour of tolerating the acrid smell and excited din that grated on their nerves, both assassins were still unable to locate their targets for there were too many figures in nondescript hoods that shielded their identities. Most likely nobles who were wanted a stake in the illicit underground gambling and fights.

“Let’s fall back to that corner,” Christophe suggested with a tilt of his head.

“You can go on ahead. I am going into the arena.” Yuuri started to move but was halted by Christophe’s hold on his shoulder

“Our mission,” Christophe began, though was interrupted by Yuuri.

“I know, but we haven’t been able to find them. They could be in the arena as well. Also, I need this.” Yuuri’s tone was level though his gaze beseeched his long time friend to give him this chance to unwind. He was filled with dangerously high restless energy after unwanted intrusion of his past memories triggered by the visit to the safe house the day before.

“Be careful.” Christophe reluctantly let go before taking up his spot to oversee the surroundings, and to guard.

Yuuri stalked towards the gatekeeper, who also managed the betting pool in the arena, and enquired tonelessly, “The rules are the same?”

“Yes they are. Winner of the bout gets fifty percent of the pool. No weapons. No killing. There is a slot in the next round,” the balding gatekeeper announced.

“I’ll be taking that slot,” Yuuri declared. Those within earshot assessed his slim figure, the leather guards that protected his forearms and thighs, and immediately shouted to place bets for the upcoming round. Yuuri was to spar against a burly, muscular alpha who had bested the previous two matches with relatively ease; matches against equally muscular alphas who had fought in the arena before.

Yuuri and his opponent strolled into the arena – a relatively spacious ring, with a referee at the side to ensure that both participants followed the rules. The whole crowd counted down from five, and the shrill whistle from the referee initiated the match.

The alpha was quick to step into Yuuri’s territory, lunging with a right hook that Yuuri deflected with a fast snap of his wrist and a twirl that propelled him out of the alpha’s range. The alpha turned and started a series of jabs and kicks, which Yuuri met blow for blow, never faltering under the assault of the alpha.

“Your scent gives you away. An omega in the Pits, much less within the arena – how amusing; aren’t you omegas supposed to be on a bed, spread out for us,” the alpha leered, loud enough for the closest spectators to grasp. A sudden hush descended upon the crowd, before a raucous roar rang out, to cheer on the alpha to teach the smaller omega a lesson for desecrating the arena that were implicitly meant for betas and alphas only.

Unbidden, Yuuri’s hackles rose, though veiled by the small smirk that shone through his hood. “You mean the same omega whom you have yet to land a proper blow on?”

The hidden connotation – insult and humiliation weaved together, were not unnoticed by the alpha and the audience, the latter giving a surprised chuckle at Yuuri’s indolence. The former, however, simmered, putting more rage and heat in his attacks. Yuuri grabbed the alpha’s outstretched fist and pulled the alpha in, voice dropping to a low purr, “This is how you land a proper blow.” With that, he threw a straight punch that cracked the nose of the stunned alpha, right foot slamming upwards towards the alpha’s groin that left him writhing on the stone floor in muffled groans of pain.

“You omega bitch,” the alpha wheezed out, fury in his eyes, as he shakily stood up and charged towards Yuuri.

Yuuri leapt over the alpha, palms pressed mockingly against the alpha’s head as it was used as a springboard. A swift roundhouse kick followed, then a hard palm that snapped up against the alpha’s chin, finished with a deadly right hook. As the alpha lay sprawled and defenseless on the cool floor, Yuuri leisurely walked up to him and placed a threatening boot on the alpha’s exposed neck. With a slight pressure, the alpha all but screamed, “I yield!” The match was over, and the alpha stumbled out of the ring in disgrace.

"Any other challengers?” The gatekeeper roared over the sudden explosion of noise from the spectators. A handful of excited alphas squabbled near the gatekeeper, to decide who could enter the ring to tame the wild omega. A silent figure, dressed in equally dark clothes and equally hooded, cut through the discord and strode into the ring with quiet confidence. Brown eyes locked onto each other from underneath their hoods, gazes turned assessing and wary as they sized each other up.

The whistle trilled and the match began, not in an eruption of flurried limbs but in utter, motionless silence. The audience watched on in bated breath, and a loud, enraged shout of “Just fucking start already!” was quickly and venomously shushed by the others. Even Christophe, from his perch, leaned forward to scan the new challenger and the spectators that surrounded the two main acts.

An assassin, or a trained fighter, was reflected back into Yuuri’s eyes – the loose but ready stance and the numerous hidden blades that were barely perceptible due to the cloak and leather guards. Guards that hugged sinewy muscles, the broad shoulders that weren’t quite hidden by the cloak. Brown eyes that reflected his own – void of emotion yet with an undercurrent of violence and aggression buried under layers and layers of apathy.

The two remained motionless for another heartbeat, before the fight began in earnest. Yuuri faked a left hook and followed up with a high right kick, both anticipated and blocked by the other assassin. Punch, jab, twirl and kick. The deadly dance in the arena mesmerising the spectators as the two weaved around each other with feline grace.

Yuuri continued to deflect and return blows, muscles relaxing and tensing to ensure maximum impact upon contact, mind whirling to analyse his opponent, to seek out weak spots and vulnerable areas. As a right hook flew towards him, Yuuri grinned internally – he had found his way out. He gripped the brawny arm and pushed himself up, trapping the other’s neck in a flying triangular chokehold. Yuuri squeezed and tightened his hold on the other, bracing against the solid punches against his right flank as the opponent fought to be free.

“Yield,” a low, gravelly voice choked out as Yuuri gave another warning squeeze. Yuuri unlocked his legs and stood gracefully, offering his hand towards the defeated opponent. A gesture of admiration and acknowledgement for his fighting prowess.

The other man grasped Yuuri’s outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet, a short incline of his head to return the gesture. Being slightly shorter, Yuuri glanced up and into the hooded features, words barely leaving his lips, “The Keep awaits your arrival.” Yuuri stepped back and out of the ring, towards the gatekeeper to obtain his earnings from the two matches. He reached Christophe in long strides, made easy as the path was cleared by jittery and wary spectators. As one, the two assassins strode out of the Pits, soon joined by two cloaked men – the opponent from before and his companion, and returned to the Keep.

* * *

Three sharp knocks permitted the four figures entry into Lilia’s study. They stood in front of her table, under her piercing scrutiny. 

“Hoods off, your identities will be safe in the Keep,” Lilia ordered, chin resting on steepled fingers. The four complied, revealing two apathetic faces from the two raven heads, an amused smirk on Christophe’s lips and a barely controlled scowl on the young blond, long tresses held together in a perfect braid.

“What news do you bring from the Northern Keeps?” Lilia inquired, green eyes boring into the young blond’s defiant emerald gaze.

“A message not from the Northern Keeps, but from Adenite,” he replied, brows furrowed as he delivered his next line.

“The man on the throne is a monster and must be taken down.”


	4. Infiltrator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter in my arsenal so far, hopefully this will stave off you folks for a bit since I'll be busy this week and might not have time to update till next week :(
> 
> P.S. I am very impressed and have a newfound respect for authors who can churn out chapters of series with 7k - 20k words

“You speak of treason of the highest order,” Lilia cautioned, though remaining unfazed at the sudden traitorous announcement.

“And I was ordered to speak of it, and to pass on the message to you and your Keep,” the blond retorted.

“By whom?”

“I was sworn to secrecy; the letter was burnt after I read it,” he replied, glaring at the older alpha, challenge stark within his narrowed green gaze.

“Yuri Plisetsky,” Lilia intoned in a steely voice. “Even if you are the cousin of the Nikiforovs, you will not be spared from the guillotine should word of your rebellion reach the king’s ears.”

“I am willing to risk it, and so is he,” Yuri countered.

“But I am not, darling,” Christophe piped out. “Not without concrete evidence or plans for taking out Viktor.”

“I agree, there is currently no good reason given to us to assassinate the king,” Yuuri added. “And the possible backlash could undermine and cripple the Keep.”

“The common people would also be caught in the crossfire, so I’d think of a foolproof plan to minimize casualties if I were you,” Christophe warned, eyes glinting protectively.

Yuri gritted his teeth in annoyance, eyes shadowed as he sorted his thoughts, as he mentally appraised the daunting task handed to him years ago.

“You should tell them a bit more on what the letter said,” his dark-haired companion urged.

“Alright,” Yuri conceded, albeit a little grumpily. “The king,” Yuri spat out in distaste, “was, and still is, dabbling in slavery and human trafficking.”

“But the decree –,” Christophe stuttered in shock.

“The decree is merely a front. A leopard doesn’t, and never will, change its spots. Who do you think placed Abrynn as Minister of Trade, of all ironical positions,” Yuri sneered. “Taking out Abrynn won’t halt the whole trafficking and slavery operation. We need to take out the puppeteer.”

“How do you know it’s the king who is behind all of this?” Yuuri questioned warily, mind churning with the new information dropped onto his lap.

“A little birdie from the palace told me, almost quite literally,” Yuri deadpanned. “Ever since I was forced to leave the palace six years ago, I had received a couple of letters regarding the royal family’s… abnormal circumstances. One of the letters mentioned about the king’s plans to expand the underground market for slavery. And his heaviest involvement is in the omega slave trade.”

“Furthermore, there is turmoil within the royal family,” Yuri continued. “Rumours that had reached the North; the Nikiforov’s branch family is planning to stage a revolt to claim the throne.”

“Rumours remain as such – rumours, not facts,” Christophe countered heatedly in denial.

“What happens when the branch family takes over the throne? It is still from the Nikiforov family, isn’t it? There won’t be a difference from the current self-serving method of ruling by the king,” Yuuri queried.

“On the surface, they might be the same,” Yuri’s companion replied. “But the branch family is much more vile, much more ruthless and much less merciful than main family. They have members trained in the Northern Keeps, making them even more dangerous to deal with.”

“It is exactly as Otabek had said. Viktor and Vitaly are the only two remaining members of the main family. If the branch family attacks, this whole city will be enslaved and those two won’t be spared. Not after how the main family oppressed the branch family and exiled them to the north years ago,” Yuri explained.

“The slavery and trafficking business is one thing, Plisetsky,” Lilia cut in. “I will not sacrifice my own to assassinate the king over broken laws.” At that, Yuri bristled in anger. “However, we had managed to extract information from the hunt. Abrynn’s conspirators admitted that Abrynn wasn’t the mastermind behind the long-standing trafficking, but someone from the upper echelons in the hierarchy. Furthermore, a possible rebellion by the branch family is a whole new pressing circumstance altogether,” Lilia continued, dismissing the adolescent’s irritation.

“Madam,” the word passed through Yuuri’s lips in a hush. “The interrogation…?”

“Okukawa was the one who informed me. I have yet to disseminate the information, so keep it within these walls,” answered Lilia. “The branch family is notoriously vicious. I have had interactions with them in the past and they were all not particularly pleasant to remember. And they are highly skilled fighters; the Northern Keep trained them well in the art of assassination. Not to mention that our northern siblings are much more cold-blooded than the rest of us. I highly doubt that the soldiers will be able to hold off against assassins of our calibre. Our smaller numbers here in Adenite will not be able to hold them off as well, should they decide to breach our city,” Lilia informed the four in clipped tones.

“Can’t we just inform the two royals about the possible invasion?” Christophe pondered in frustration.

“They can’t be trusted, not right now,” Yuri returned.

“Why? They should be concerned about this,” Yuuri probed.

“First off, the branch family is still family. Secondly, there are past circumstances which I cannot divulge, not right now without consequences.”

“You’re hiding an awful lot of information from us, and yet you still seek our assistance,” Yuuri pushed on, curiosity piqued.

Yuri clenched his teeth, in a bid to not lash out, Otabek, a silent supporter behind him. “We need to gather definitive evidence against the king and the branch family before we can proceed with further actions from this point on,” Yuri gritted out. “I may have access to the palace, but my actions are still limited, and will be monitored closely, mark my words.”

Terse silence blanketed the study, as each of the occupants mentally rolled over the information, picking apart it from different angles. Adenite had just barely recovered from a scuffle with her neighbours. A new one, much less an internal conflict within the royal family, would shake the core of Adenite’s ruling powers. It would sow further discord and distrust between the royals and the citizens, leaving Adenite vulnerable to undesirable vultures. It wasn’t something Adenite and her denizens could avoid, not without dooming the commoners to a possible lifetime of slavery under the rule of the pitiless Nikiforovs or the equally power-hungry neighbours.

“We need to investigate the branch family, then the king’s involvement in the trafficking ring. Our priority should be to prevent any hostile takeover of the throne,” Yuuri stated, breaking the silence.

“No. Investigate the twins first. They might have answers to our situation,” Yuri countered.

“You’re being awfully suspicious, little alpha,” Christophe drawled out.

“If I could, I would have shared what I know with the public ages ago,” Yuri growled back. “I was supposed to be the only one with the information. By sharing it with all of you here, I’m jeopardizing all of our safety, not only mine. I know that!” He all but snarled out. Worry and fear coating his words with an acidic tang.

“Why us? Why choose us?” Yuuri’s eyes hardened with reservation.

“You’re the closest to the palace, and Lilia knows the palace and the governor well,” Yuri said, earning a nod of agreement from the female alpha. “Infiltrating the palace would be easier with Lilia’s and the governor’s help.”

“What about the branch family? Who is going to monitor them?”

“Not you, Katsuki. I refuse to send an omega into a nest of hungry alphas. Or any of the assassins under this Keep,” Lilia responded. “We are strangers to the Nikiforovs, too noticeable if we showed up suddenly. I’ll find another way. Meanwhile, put your efforts into obtaining any and all evidence from the palace on the two brothers. Katsuki, go and get Chulanont. Giacometti, escort our two guests to their lodging and return here for further instructions.”

Yuri looked like he was about to argue against the abrupt dismissal, though held back when Otabek steered him towards the door and out of the study. Christophe and Yuuri did as they were told, and returned with Phichit to the study.

Mere seconds after the door slid shut, Lilia started, “Keep your wits about you and gather all the information that you can. Send a report to me every three days. And whatever you do,” she warned, “Do not antagonize Plisetsky. He has been trained by the Northern Keep and not to be underestimated.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Yuuri and Phichit found themselves dressed in simple sleeveless tunics of white, a black rope tightening the cloth around their waist, feet wrapped in snowy white bandages and tucked into brown cotton boots. They walked behind Yuri and Otabek, heads slightly bowed and hands clasped in front in the perfect picture of subservience, and up the stairs that led to the throne room of the palace.

“Yuri Plisetsky has arrived, Your Majesty,” a deep, gravelly voice droned, the announcement echoing within the spacious and ostentatiously decorated room. The King sat regally on his throne, garbed in a long-sleeved translucent magenta outer layer with golden chains securing the two sides of the button-less placket, over a fitted white shirt – half-open, tucked into tailored ebony pants. The ensemble was finished with deep burgundy elbow-length gloves, darkening to a rich reddish-black cuff nearer the elbows, which covered the thumbs and curved elegantly over the palms, leaving the remaining fingers free. The crown prince, in a similar looking shirt but shaded in the richest navy, stood to the right of the throne whilst the governor stood, hands clasped, on the other side of the throne.

The retinue of four bowed in greeting, bodies folding neatly into half, and then straightened. Although Yuuri and Phichit kept their gaze firmly on the ground, hands folded neatly and pressed against their waist, an indication of their lowly status. Yuri addressed with a hint of barely-present revulsion, “It has been a long time, Your Majesty, Your Highness. Thank you for accepting my request to visit you.”

“Yuri, spare the formalities. We are cousins, not strangers. Call us by our names, for old times’ sake,” Viktor chuckled from the throne, immediately dissipating the tension with his jovial mood.

“It certainly has been awhile, young Yuri,” Vitaly greeted back with a smile. “You have grown so much, I barely recognise you!”

“I can’t believe the spitfire from years ago has been tamed to a noble of respectable manners,” Viktor jested. “Are we sure that we have the right Yuri in front of us?”

“Viktor,” Yuri snarled threateningly, his polite façade shedding instantly, though only managing to elicit more exuberant laughter from the twins. After all these years, his cousins are still insufferable jerks who love to step on Yuri’s tail.

Viktor’s last vestiges of mirth finally dissolved in the face of a ticked off Yuri, and enquired, “So, who are these with you?” Viktor and Vitaly gave cursory glances toward the three accompanying attendants, although Viktor’s strayed slightly longer at the two omegas present.

“Otabek from the north, my retainer,” Yuri introduced. “Yuuri and Phichit, my servants.” The three bowed once more in deference to the royals at their introduction.

“It is a pleasure to have you here in the palace. Taking care of this little tiger must have been exhausting,” Viktor commented jovially, winking facetiously at the slowly reddening face of an annoyed Yuri. “Speaking of exhaustion, the travels must have been wearying. Rest well, and we shall catch up on our lost years over dinner.”

“You will be staying in your old suite,” Vitaly offered. “Your retainer and servants may stay with you, if you wish.”

“I thank you for your hospitality, cousins,” Yuri grudgingly acknowledged. “These three will be staying with me in the suite. It would be more convenient.” _To discuss and plan_ , Yuri mentally added.

“Gerardo will be sent to your room to help your servants orientate,” Vitaly continued warmly.

“We will meet again at dinnertime.” With that, Yuri excused himself and strode out of the throne room.

“It is good to have you home, Yuri,” a soft caress of longing escaped from Viktor’s lips, his eyes shimmering with memories of youth and innocence. A whisper barely carried over the wind, only caught by Yuuri who had been stationed at the rear of Yuri’s small entourage. He quickly erased his furrowed brows of confusion into neutral apathy, mission at the forefront of his mind. Eyes scanning his new environment, taking in all of the shadowy corners and hiding spots, the multitude of doors and windows.

They finally reached Yuri’s old suite after a couple of winding turns and loops across the palace grounds, and climbing up a grandly decorated staircase of white and gold in the west wing. Yuuri forced his jaws closed when he entered the suite with the high arches, though Phichit beside him had no reservations emitting gasps of pleasant stupefaction at the grandiosity of their new lodgings coloured in flattering shades of white, cream and chestnut.

Awestruck eyes roved over the plush settee that formed an informal v-shape and faced the balcony that overlooked the palace’s private garden and lake. Directly opposite were closed windows belonging to the eastern wing of the palace. The open ceiling-to-floor French windows allowed a gentle breeze to playfully tug at the sheer white curtains, billowing with glee. A large grandfather clock stood to the side of the French windows, the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the needles harmonizing well with the occasional chirrups of the birds that flew past, and the gentle shushing of ripples from the lake.

To their immediate right was an enormous room, occupied by a four-poster bed, a walk-in closet and a personal bathroom. _Definitely Yuri’s quarters_ , Yuuri thought amusedly as his eyes followed his young charge flopping down, spread-eagle, onto the plush bed with a tired sigh.

The door to their immediate left, however, branched into a short hallway that housed three other wooden doors. The first was a simply furnished room with a single bed, desk and closet. The third was a similarly designed room but meant for two occupants. The middle door led to the bathroom, which was also connected to the other two rooms.

The enchanted spell was broken by a gruff “Yura”, from the governor who had followed them into the suite and shut the entrance door for privacy. Yuri ushered the four into his room and spoke lowly, “The walls have ears, Yakov.”

“That I am well aware of,” the elderly governor replied in an equally hushed voice. “I received an urgent notification a few weeks ago. I am only here to urge you to be extremely careful. There is something _wrong_ happening in this palace and I cannot figure out what or why.”

“No shit,” Yuri muttered imperceptibly.

“Language, Yura,” the governor scolded. “Keep me updated – ” His words were stolen by a polite knock thudding on the suite’s door, stunning them into shocked silence. Smoothing his face to neutrality, Yuuri ambled over and opened the door to reveal a handsomely dressed, middle-aged butler.

“Greetings, my name is Gerardo and I have been tasked to ensure that His Highness Yuri is settling down well and to help his servants orientate the palace,” he said politely, smile never once wavering.

“Do what you need to,” Yuri dismissed Yuuri and Phichit, before turning to face Yakov once more.

The two bowed once towards Yuri then followed the butler out of the suite and into the heart of the palace, where activity thrummed and thrived. Yuuri focused on memorizing the blueprint of the palace, absent-mindedly grunting out answers whenever Gerardo paused to ask questions. He would get Phichit to fill in any gaps in knowledge afterwards.

The trio marched past the elegant gardens with evergreen trees, seasonal flowers and golden-red koi fishes swimming indolently along the long stretch of manmade stream. Crossing ornamental bridges and pagodas where the royals sometimes host intimate gatherings with visiting nobles. Gerardo first led them to the palace’s private orchard, where fruits of different varieties were lovingly nurtured and harvested. The current season yielded bright green apples hanging temptingly, albeit unripe, on their trees. The three greeted beta and omega servants whenever they walked past them, with Gerardo providing short introductions between the strangers.

Next on the agenda was the kitchen, managed by a young but surly-looking beta cook, Seung Gil, and assisted by an equally young beta, Leo, and an even younger omega, Guang Hong. The welcoming smiles of the latter two countered the brusque greeting by the cook. Guang Hong was also immediately attached to the two older omegas, for omegas working in the palace tended to be much older or females who were often preoccupied by the royals’ attractiveness. The sentiment was reciprocated by Yuuri for his protective instincts had surged upon meeting the shy and cheerful omega. He vowed to keep this young omega safe from harm – and from any possible attempts to be kidnapped and thrown into the trafficking ring.

After, the trio found themselves at the seamstress chamber, and then the laundry chamber which was in close proximity. Both were supervised by a motherly matron, who kept exclaiming that Yuuri and Phichit were both too skinny and should be eating more and that their tunics were full of loose stitching and holes, and offered to sew new uniforms and provide new boots for the pair. Her genteel nature won over the hearts of the two grateful omegas, and they left the room with a new set of tunic and boots, their old ones thrown into the laundry and then sent for repair work.

Thereafter, they walked through the halls of the central palace, up and down gilded staircases, past oiled paintings of the former ruling families framed in gold and silver; past arched doorways that led to various ballrooms, council rooms and the throne room. Yuuri noticed smaller doors where servants flitted in and out, presumably short cuts that linked the servants’ quarters and the kitchen to the main palace. The eastern wing was left out – the residence of the ruling twins and their private sanctuary, according to Gerardo.

By the time Gerardo returned the pair to Yuri’s suite, both assassins had mental layouts of the sprawling palace – where the important rooms would be, where the gossip mill possibly ran, and all the plausible escape, or rather entry, routes across the high walls that surrounded the palace; the places where guards patrolled, and places where security was more lax.

“We will need some time in order to gain the trust of the servants,” Yuuri said, when all four of them were once again gathered in Yuri’s private room. Yakov had long left the suite after obtaining the necessary information from Yuri. All the doors and windows were shut and locked as a precaution, though they still kept their voices low and soft, ears alert for any approaching footsteps or abnormality.

Although it was in his job’s nature to deceive and gather intel, Yuuri still felt a twinge of unease and guilt in such blatant manipulation of another’s trust. He was especially fond of the young omega, Guang Hong, and hoped that he would be able to spare him from the ugliness underneath the gorgeous façade of the palace, to maintain his purity and innocence even when his own was lost years ago. He had vowed to prevent as many innocents from experiencing the same agony, and he would uphold his promise as long as he lived.

“You will need to hurry. We do not know when the trafficking ring and the Nikiforovs would strike,” Yuri warned. “I will search for information amongst the nobles, and hopefully be able to get something from the twins as well.”

“Understood.”

* * *

All through dinner, Yuuri hung back in the smaller, private dining area alongside Otabek at the behest of Yuri. Phichit was dispatched to serve the food and then set free to scope out the palace. Making sure to keep his head slightly bowed at all times, Yuuri’s eyes flickered back and forth between the royals present, cataloguing the twins and their idiosyncrasies.

At first glance, the twins were differentiated by their obvious choice in clothing – the king was always in shades of red and purple, whereas the crown prince favoured mellow blues and earthy tones of green and brown. A second blink of his eyes captured the identical silver bands on their left hands – the second finger for the king and the third for the prince.

Apart from their outerwear and accessories, the twins were almost completely identical in terms of looks, built and mannerisms. They had the same smile, same crinkle in their eyes, same furrow in their brows whenever they were in deep thought, and even the way they crossed their legs at the ankle was the same. Although an extremely minute and subtle difference was how the king’s laughter was more open, rawer with emotions, and thus throatier than his twin’s. It was somewhat odd to Yuuri – he couldn’t reconcile the king’s unreserved, genuine mirth with a portrayal of a ruthless one who exploited his own people. Laughter that rang of veritable joy and happiness, untainted by any corruption of the heart. However, if Yuuri’s two sides – the cold-blooded assassin and warm, protective omega, could settle and live within him in congruence, it would be fair to assume that the king was of the same ilk.

Even after dinner was long over, and the royals returned to their private suites to rest, Yuuri couldn’t shake off a nagging feeling that something was amiss. A falsity underneath all the pleasantness, possibly – from whom, he could not place a finger right now. But he would find out; his mind already whirling with analysis and theories, his senses prickled and vigilant for subtle changes in mood and environment.

Restlessness dug deep into Yuuri’s bones, his muscles twitching with a fierce need to satiate his curiosity. Thus, Yuuri found himself creeping out of his bed past midnight, long after Phichit had fallen into a heavy slumber, slipping into his black form-fitting suit, mask and boots, fully intent to scour the palace grounds once more. Tucking a blade into the sheath strapped to his thigh, Yuuri carefully climbed out of the window and shimmied onto the roof, crouching low to scan for patrols.

Deeming it safe to proceed, Yuuri hopped across the low roofs and slunk along shadows as he crossed into the eastern wing, hoping to at least obtain a basic layout of the unexplored grounds. The eastern wing was built identically to its western sibling, saving Yuuri some time and effort in memorizing the different routes, nooks and crannies. He had to slink into a darkened corner, and even swung himself up onto the shadowed, ornately decorated ceilings, a few times to avoid approaching guards.

Noiselessly making his way to the second level, Yuuri crept along the empty corridors and darted towards his right where two sets of doors stayed firmly closed, although orange lights escaped through the cracks of one of them, from the door at the end of the hallway. He approached the sturdy railings and hauled himself up and towards the roof, quickly skimming towards the edge where voices rang out, low and melodious. Yuuri dropped down onto a nearby perch, just beside the flung-open French doors, with a silent, feline grace.

“The omegas,” a low, sultry purr started; indistinguishable. “They smelled lovely.”

“Of all things to mention when our tigrenok has finally returned after all these years. I have missed him so.”

“Am I not enough?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I was merely jesting, brother. I have missed our little tiger as well.”

“I wonder what brought him back to our lands after so long.”

“With an interesting retinue as well. I'm surprised that he'd have two omega attendants; I never expected him to have even one, after that incident.”

“Perhaps he had recovered after his days in the north. Surviving up in the cold and harsh environment requires some semblance of strength after all.”

“I won't be surprised if he's one of the top fighters in the Northern Keep. Brings back memories of our days up in the north eh, brother?”

“Memories I'd rather not remember,” one of the twin’s voices sharpened abruptly in warning.

“Vit-”

“Say no more.” The finality in his hard tone echoed with an uneasy stillness.

“Let me help you lighten up tonight,” an almost flirty croon cajoled, but rammed headfirst into stony silence instead.

“I will be retiring for the night,” a soft, indiscernible voice rang out after a few minutes of quiet. In dismissal or in farewell, Yuuri couldn't tell.

The sound of a closing door reverberated softly, and Yuuri stayed in the shadows for a handful of minutes. The lights finally dimmed and turned off. It was his cue to leave.


	5. Stalker

Days passed in a blurry monotony – getting acquainted with most, if not all, of the servants working in the palace in the day and sneaking across palace grounds under the night’s cover. Reports sent to Lilia spoke of the eerie normalcy within the palace walls; the immaculateness of it, not a single vase out of its location, nor a portrait out of position.

Neither Yuuri nor Phichit were able to sneak back to the eastern wing after that very first night, for the lights of the various studies, libraries and even the sleeping quarters were perpetually on from dusk to dawn every day. Even the cooks, servants, butlers, laundresses, guards – every single person were scurrying and hurrying in preparation for the upcoming Harvest Festival, to give thanks to the deities for another year of bountiful harvest. Both assassins had to halt their nightly escapades for a couple of days to rest after being worked double time each passing day, exhaustion lining heavily underneath their eyes.

Being the more sociable and disarming of the two, Phichit was often sent to blend in with the other attendants whereas Yuuri followed Yuri to dine with and meet the twin royals. Though, whenever Yuuri visited the kitchens, he would always stick with the loveable omega, Guang Hong, whom he had instinctively claimed protective custody over. Oftentimes, both worked quietly in tandem, Yuuri entertaining Guang Hong’s curiosity of life beyond the borders of Adenite whenever they were on a break. The former would thank Lilia, whenever such questions appeared, for sending him out of town often enough to be able to answer Guang Hong without having to resort to too many blatant lies. In return, Guang Hong happily supplied answers to Yuuri’s queries on life in the castle, sometimes dragging Leo and Seung-Gil into the conversation since they were hired for a far longer time. However, no one revealed any abnormalities within the palace – or rather, nothing eccentric happened in the past few years since Viktor took over the late king.

On a balmy night, a listless Yuuri abruptly got out of his bed and changed to his shadow suit, sliding a handful of blades into his leather arm guards and into his boots before leaping out of his window to do a quick perimeter sweep of the palace. A few aimless circles around the palace later, and still unable to sneak into the eastern wing, he decided to call it quits for the night. Yuuri was on his way to visit the horses in the stables to calm his mind when a sudden movement in his peripheral stilled his muscles, instincts prompting him to melt into the shadows up a nearby tree.

Through his slits, he saw a figure, similarly clad in all-black with the hood obscuring the face, approach the wall cautiously then scaling up and over into the woods outside. _That’s definitely not Phichit, Yuri or Otabek_ , Yuuri thought. The figure was much taller than the former two, and much leaner than the northern assassin.

Keeping his senses alert for any approaching guards, Yuuri followed the figure across the wall, into the woods and gradually entering the streets of Amber. Boots danced across grass and twigs in a silent manoeuvre, as he slipped into and out of shadows while trying to keep the running figure in sight. For a few heart-stopping moments, Yuuri had to quickly duck behind buildings when he got too close, when the person he was following suddenly stopped as though sensing Yuuri’s presence behind him.

Eventually, the figure crossed the threshold of a sprawling compound that housed a multitude of low-roofed buildings. The oldest and finest brothel in the red light district, Eros, to Yuuri’s knowledge; Patrons have to pay a hefty sum upfront – ten gold coins at least, to be able to just _watch_ the performances, much less partake in the sexual services provided. Furthermore, the brothel prided on keeping their clientele and any other information confidential; it would be futile to sidle in and demand for answers for the Keep held no sway over them. Yuuri would know – he and Chris had been dispatched to hunt for slave traders in the past and one of their leads led them to Eros, but they were unable to confirm anything, not even with bags of gold coins and promises of utmost discretion.

Dismayed, Yuuri stayed put outside the compound to do a quick perimeter sweep. To find weak spots that he could potentially exploit to gain entry. Or information – he wasn’t picky at this point. The whole compound was too bright – too many lit lanterns, too little shadows to hide in, making infiltration markedly complicated. Although, blessed by the gods above, Yuuri discovered plenty of foliage on the outskirts of the compound where he could sneak about relatively undetected.

With that in mind, Yuuri waited for the cloaked stranger to be done with his business and followed him back to the palace. Sure-footed as ever, they climbed back through the same area, skulking around pillars to remain undetected. It was only when they reached the eastern wing, then did Yuuri pause, his suspicions increasing exponentially. The figure bounded up to the second floor where the sleeping quarters resided, but Yuuri was less lucky for the patrol rounded the corner at that moment, forcing him to remain hidden. Once they passed, he quickly scrambled upwards, yet only hitting a dead end – all the doors were closed, lights left the way they were when he was there earlier.

Disgruntled, Yuuri returned to his own room, mind spinning at the implications of his recent discovery.

* * *

The next night yielded no new escapade from the royal, although the third night did. This time, Yuuri caught him at one of the concealed passages near the orchards instead of the stables, heading to town once again. Yuuri tailed him furtively, and was surprised when he found himself at Himeros instead – a brothel on equal standing as Eros and famously known for having omegas-only employees. Thankfully, Himeros was much easier to infiltrate than Eros; lanterns dimmed to accentuate coy smiles and fluttering lashes that the omegas expertly utilized to lure their patrons in further into their webs. Lanterns dimmed to aid an assassin enter their grounds.

The cloaked figure strode through the lively path within Himeros with casualness and familiarity, all the way to the main house where the receptionist and matron waited in vulture-like anticipation. A gloved hand handed them a bag of jingling coins, which the matron hurriedly tucked into her bosom, then led into a private one-storey building, slightly away from the main house.

Yuuri took full advantage of the secluded area, dropping down from his perch on a nearby tree and onto the back porch with nary a whisper. He then flipped himself up to the rafters, moving across the thin but sturdy wooden planks and into the dark room. Praying that the occupants would stay in the rooms nearer the front, Yuuri continued to creep inwards.

“Is this the omega from then? He looks delectable,” a hungry voice filtered through the paper-thin walls. A barely perceptible whimper accompanied a shift in the heavy pheromones inundating the whole house. Yuuri had to restrain himself from responding in kind, in angry protectiveness over his secondary gender’s kin.

“I’m glad that he is to your liking, Sire,” a nasally voice replied, the scent of pleased alpha overpowering the fearful tang of the omega. “But, Sire, the next batch…”

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, it will be postponed until further notice,” came a voice full of authority; a voice befitting of a prince, or king.

“I understand, Sire. I will leave you to enjoy the bounty.” A shuffling of footsteps and a gentle slide of the doors signalled the exit of the unknown third party.

Disgusted, Yuuri warred internally and eventually, reluctantly, decided to leave and tail the mysterious partner instead. He could not stay any further or he’d risk breaking into the room and jeopardizing himself and the whole mission. With a heavy heart, Yuuri exited the house, leaving behind the beginnings of rustling fabric, rich scents of arousal and pleasured moans.

Jumping across rooftops and keeping low, Yuuri followed the partner, a tall, broad-shouldered alpha in an emerald yukata, as he made his way through the grounds of Himeros. The alpha never once stopped in any sequestered place, always within sight of an employee or a patron. It wasn’t until the wee hours, when the pitch-black sky showed signs of lightening, that the alpha departed from Himeros. He walked briskly through Amber, where prostitutes milled the streets to lure their last customers, and all the way across the bridge and into the territory of Kyanite.

Yuuri struck.

He capitalized on the long shadows and alleyways to slip into the alpha’s blind spot, unnoticed. A son of the night, suddenly materializing, then slammed the heel of his palm on the back of the alpha’s neck to instantly knock him out. The alpha crumpled, boneless, onto the stone ground, and any pairs of curious, wandering eyes that shone from the darkness turned away immediately from the assassin and his quarry.

Yuuri nudged the alpha, to reveal his identity. And he would have left him there, after spilling red-hot blood of karmic vengeance onto the stone floors, were it not for the urgency of his current mission. Compartmentalizing and burying his cold hatred into a deep corner within himself, Yuuri hefted the deadweight across his shoulders stiffly, and hastily made his way to the Keeps.

Yuuri flicked on the lights in the Keep’s holding room, dumping his load unceremoniously onto the cold, hard ground, behind steel bars. Long strides brought him to the adjacent room, where he took thick nylon ropes and blindfolds to secure the alpha’s limbs and remove his bearings. And Yuuri wasn’t kind and gentle when he trussed the alpha up like a turkey; Yuuri was harsh and unyielding, ropes cutting into tanned skin, eliciting an unconscious whimper of pain from the alpha and malicious satisfaction from the omega.

Content with his handiwork, Yuuri left the alpha in the cell, his pitiful state illuminated by the glaring light. He left for the study, a restless itch underneath his skin, urging him on to hurry, hurry, hurry. The customary three knocks on the door left him impatient as he awaited permission to enter, then impatiently striding towards Lilia, pushing the limits of civility and grace incorporated into him years ago.

“Your report isn’t due until later on, Katsuki,” Lilia inquired, intrigued at her assassin’s sudden arrival.

“Madam, my apologies for showing up unexpectedly,” Yuuri uttered with gentle sincerity, at odds with his edginess. “But there has been a new development. Madam Okukawa should be present to hear this as well.”

At his words, Lilia’s focus turned predatory and assessing, then nodded her assent. Within a few moments, Yuuri managed to locate his ex-instructor in the weapons room and the two were back in the study, both alphas listening to Yuuri in rapt attention. He told them about the cloaked figure’s two escapades, gesticulating that it was one, or even possibly both, of the royals who were out and about frolicking at the two brothels. He spoke of the conversation that took place in Himeros’ private quarters, almost certain that the omega in that room was obtained via illicit means. Yuuri ended the report with the confederate’s capture and presence in the holding room, silence lingering after his last words.

Okukawa Minako’s eyes bored into Yuuri’s, sharpening abruptly when she asked in a lilting voice, “You know him, the confederate.” A statement, instead of a question, that Yuuri hesitated to reply. The ghosts of his past rearing their ugly heads, choking him.

“He was the alpha in the warehouse,” Yuuri admitted, not without fury.

"The one who used his voice?" To which Yuuri agreed with a stilted nod, barely suppressing the angry howls of his omega for vengeance. 

“I’ll make him talk, then make him pay,” Minako promised darkly.

“Leave a few bones for me, Minako-sensei,” Yuuri replied, venom in his voice. “And his sight as well. I want him to see me and remember.”

“You have taught him too well, Minako,” Lilia cut in drily. “Your protégé’s skills in interrogation and torture, and bloodlust, rival yours, even though his natural aptitude lies in reconnaissance and seduction. Do your best, or your worst. I want names to work with within the next six hours. Katsuki, it’s nearing daybreak. Return to the palace.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, but was shut down immediately with a compromise from the two alpha females. He could come back another day to continue the interrogation; Minako would spare a heavy hand this time round and let Yuuri have the honours instead, to turn into Adenite’s Wolf and bare his fangs when it was time.

Bowing in agreement and in farewell, Yuuri left the Keeps and the abominable alpha in Minako’s capable hands. He raced the quickly brightening sky, dodging already-awake servants and stable boys and sprinting back to the west wing, deftly jumping through the open windows of his room and tumbling in gracefully just as Phichit awoke with a stretch.

“Busy night?” Phichit yawned, pearly whites gleaming against the morning rays.

“Your morning breath stinks,” Yuuri deadpanned, none too gently, and earning himself a fluffy pillow projectile, courtesy of the tan omega. “And yes. I’ll update you after we wash up.”

Grumbling at Yuuri’s hygienic tendencies, bordering obsessive sometimes, Phichit trudged into the bathroom to freshen up. He waited patiently for Yuuri in their shared room, absent-mindedly listening to the birds’ mirthful chirrups over the muted rush of water from the showers. As soon as the door creaked open, Phichit stared at Yuuri with a hungry gleam in his eyes, intent on getting his fair share of information one way or another. The latter could only sigh in amusement, intentionally taking his time to dress in his attire for the day, then immediately dashing out of the suite to get breakfast for themselves, Yuri and Otabek, evoking a cry of outrage from Phichit and triggering a game of chase as the two assassins-turned-children streaked down the halls in exuberant whoops and threats of bodily harm.

The pair entered the orchards, after cheerfully greeting passing servants and guards, to pluck a couple of fresh fruits. In their jubilance and haste, they failed to notice a nearby figure in a pale white robe, long silver hair pleated and placed neatly down his shoulder, stepping back _just so_ and into the path of the two barrelling omegas. The collision was inevitable, a flurry of limbs and grunts of pain and surprise that jostled the roosting birds out of their perches.

Yuuri and Phichit hurried to their feet, apologies on the tip of their tongues, and the former with an outstretched hand towards the third victim. A warm, strong hand grasped Yuuri’s in a firm grasp, long and nimble fingers curling, their tips resting lightly on his wrist. Hands that slotted together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. He lifted himself up from the maple leaf strewn ground gracefully, and then let go, to Yuuri’s surprised disappointment.

It was only then that Yuuri noticed the ring – the ring of the twins, on the third finger. Face mottling red in rapidly escalating mortification, Yuuri bowed deeply and spewed out apologies, prompting Phichit to follow suit.

“We are so sorry, Your Highness! Please forgive us for our insolence,” they cried out.

To their bewilderment, the soft gaiety of low, rumbling chuckles waved their apologies away and eased the tension in the orchard.

“It is perfectly fine, do not worry about it. I was at fault as well, for not being alert,” Prince Vitaly remarked, instantly dismissing their concerns. “Are you here to pick fruits for Yuri? He loved to pick his own apples back when he was younger and still living with us.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Phichit intoned politely.

“I shall leave you two to your duties then. Be careful not to run into any other unsuspecting people.” An unrestrained chuckle broke through once again, before the prince turned and left the orchard without giving either omega a chance to reply.

“That… went well,” Phichit croaked out. Yuuri could only nod in fervent agreement, voice long lost when his heart leapt to his throat, robbing him of his speech.

The two made a silent agreement to not talk about their disastrous encounter with the prince, instead deliberately and determinedly looking ahead to pick the juiciest and reddest apple in the orchard. Both missing the royal’s pause at the orchard’s fence, head turning slightly so, eyes raking over the two stiff omegas at work, silent contemplation shadowing his usually bright cerulean eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my lovely readers, I am really sorry about this late update!! I am currently on a summer programme right now so there isn't much time for my to properly flesh out and edit each chapter. Hence, chapter 6 will take quite a while before I can post it. Hopefully, I can get it up before June ends, otherwise it'll be posted nearer ~10th July-ish when things quieten down.
> 
> Thank you for the wait and I hope you enjoyed the (slightly short, I'm sorry!) chapter! :)


	6. Seducer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebration of harvests - of crops and of hearts

Yuuri refused to divulge his newly found information, not even under threats or coercion from a whiny Phichit. He explained the need for discretion, his wariness of speaking within the four walls of the palace. Phichit was finally appeased when he was promised to be briefed at the meeting later on in the night at the Keep.

True to his words, Yuuri brought Phichit, Yuri, Otabek and Christophe up to speed with his revelations from the past few nights of sleuthing around. His barely restrained revolt at the concealed depravity was mirrored by the four, mixed with varying degrees of scandalized outrage at the almost-certainty of their ruling twins tainting their lineage by dabbling in such debauchery. Lilia and Minako were also present, constant pillars of support for their younger charges as they fumbled through their muddied thoughts and questioned Yuuri endlessly.

“Chris,” Yuuri asked wearily after the questions died down. “Did you know about the twins’ dalliance with omegas?”

“I do; it’s not a particularly well-kept secret amongst the nobles close to the Nikiforovs, but we don’t necessarily advertise it either,” Christophe admitted. “But from what I know, only the older twin is partial towards taking omegas to bed, regardless of men or women. I have never heard of the younger partaking in such frivolousness.”

Christophe’s admittance nagged at Yuuri, dredging up a conversation he had eavesdropped on weeks ago. The latter hissed silently in sudden realization of the implication of that particular, seemingly innocuous, interaction between the twins when he’d spied on them.

“I need to seduce the king,” Yuuri announced, eliciting gasps of shock from those around him and even a choked sputter from Yuri. An outcry of dissent rioted, before it was shut down by an unexpected source.

“It might work,” Yuri agreed grudgingly, though spitting out his next words in sheer disgust. “If what Chris said was true, we have a higher chance of uncovering the truth if Viktor falls for Yuuri. We need to get into the eastern wing and this is our best bet at the moment.”

“Even if we agree to let Yuuri seduce the king, of all people, which I still object,” Phichit voiced out. “His role is still that of an omega servant – almost the lowest in the hierarchy within the palace, unless Viktor isn’t a picky alpha.”

“I can help with that,” intervened Christophe. “The Harvest Festival will be upon us soon, and there will be the annual Masquerade Party in the palace.”

“That’s only for the nobles! The rest of the population can only go for the Bonfire since it’s free entry for all,” Phichit argued.

“Phichit, my dear, please let me finish,” Christophe sighed, leading Phichit to acquiescence with a grumble. “As I was saying, the nobles are invited to the party, and are allowed to bring a date with them. Yuuri, will you give me the honour to be my date to the Masquerade Party?” Christophe proposed with a lascivious wink, hands stretched out dramatically as he knelt on the ground before Yuuri. The tense moment was broken with the alpha’s bold and light-hearted declaration, inducing chuckles across the room.

“I would be delighted, fair Sir,” Yuuri responded in kind, pretending to swoon as he held onto Christophe’s hand, all the while smirking in mirth.

“If that is the case, prepare well, Katsuki, and don’t let your identity be exposed,” Lilia cut in sternly, though lingering traces of amusement danced in her green gaze.

* * *

 

Phichit declared determinedly, “Since you’re going to the party – you lucky bastard, you’d better bring back the desserts after you’re done with your seduction, I’m damn well turning you into the finest looking person in there that everyone will be drooling after you.”

“Do you want food or do you want me to be food?” Yuuri asked as Phichit helped apply smoky gold eye shadow, finishing it with a dang impressive winged liner.

“Both,” his best friend replied cheekily, dusting a light layer of rouge on Yuuri’s pale cheeks.

It was a couple of hours before the party, and Phichit was helping Yuuri prepare for the ball back in the latter’s home, concealing his worries over the mission later with light-hearted banter and expertly applied makeup.

“Alright, done,” Phichit announced proudly. “My my, you look ravishing, I’m tempted to keep you in here with me instead.” Flirty winks and overly-exaggerated kissy faces tickled Yuuri until both of them were giggling uncontrollably.

Mari walked into her younger brother’s room then after a few polite knocks, amusedly staring at the two accomplished assassins dissolve into a hysterical mess on the bed. “Be careful, won’t you,’’ Mari murmured fondly and protectively, tightly hugging Yuuri and sending prayers after prayers that the past wouldn’t repeat itself.

“I will, sister,” Yuuri promised, returning the hug with equal affection.

“You look way too good for those royals,” she grumbled upon taking in his appearance. “You couldn’t have made him less enticing? She shot at Phichit, eyes narrowing.

“No can do, sis,” Phichit replied. “Since he’s going to seduce _the king_ , he can’t lose out to all those flamboyant nobles, though Yuuri is at his sexiest when au naturale. Or maybe when he’s choking people in their own blood.” A grin and an exasperated sigh followed.

“Come back safe,” Mari finally relented. “Chulanont, peak hours are coming, get your ass in the kitchen.”

“Orders await me; take care of yourself.” Phichit rose on his feet and gave a long hug to his best friend before following Mari out.

“Thank you, Phichit,” Yuuri said in gratitude. “I’ll bring back some souvenirs for you, if I remember.” He pretended to add in as an afterthought, earning a mock scowl from the disappearing omega.

* * *

 

After having to go through a few torturous moments of a wolf-whistling Christophe checking him out from all angles, the two were ready to depart from Christophe’s abode just as the final streaks of salmon pink darkened into a beautiful shimmering cobalt blue sky.  

Sturdy wooden wheels of the ornately designed carriage rumbled across the cobblestones as the horse ambled towards the palace in steady plods. The pair of alpha-omega sat in comfortable idle chatter, flashing discreet hand signs in confirmation of their plan afterwards. Not too long later, a neatly-dressed young male beta opened the doors to the halted carriage, exposing the occupants to a glimpse of the palace bathed in soft orange-yellow light. A soft breeze rustled and dislodged more leaves, creating an ethereal painting of reddish-brown, orange and ruby red maple leaves scattering across the grounds, interspersed with yellow gingko leaves.

Christophe stepped out first, turning around to offer an arm to his partner with a deliberate flourish. Rolling his eyes in mock exasperation behind his mask, Yuuri equally gamely accepted the proffered arm, resting his snowy white gloves gently atop Christophe’s arm. The two made a handsome pair, blond complimenting raven, Christophe’s dark red attire accenting Yuuri’s midnight blue streaked with silver whirls when they caught the light. An ebony mask with silver swirls and spirals framed Yuuri's eyes, giving them an ethereal glow, yet contrasting handsomely with lightly tinted red lips. Smooth arches of the mask accentuated his high cheekbones in a seductive manner, whilst subtly outlining his sharp nose and jaws. Christophe had a similarly designed mask, although it was an ivory white with gold streaks instead.

Throughout their comfortably silent walk up the garden path and into the palace proper, the pair drew numerous eyes and attention – of the salacious kind, from the other richly dressed attendees. Christophe sent acknowledging nods to those he recognized, and flirtatious winks to the rest whereas Yuuri stared resolutely ahead, mind whirring with plans and backup plans.

“Smile a little, Yuuri,” Christophe crooned. “We are at a party, not a funeral. Ease that frown off from behind your mask and stop emitting that killer aura.”

Yuuri murmured a low apology, bringing himself to the present, hooded eyes sharpening in alacrity as he took in his surroundings with rapt attention. He would sometimes give a curt nod as a greeting; other times a small smirk that sent noble ladies into furious blushes and noble lads into a dazed, lust-filled stupor with wide-blown irises. The scene was hilarious to Christophe, sending him into restrained chuckles as he took in the effect Yuuri inadvertently had on the unsuspecting. Yuuri shot him a confused look, to which Christophe replied with a cheeky, “You’re dropping panties up down left right and center. See all those nobles? They would kill to have a piece of you in their bed for even a second.”

Yuuri scoffed in reply, “There is only one person whom I want tonight.”

“Better up the ante then, love.”

“He won’t know what hit him,” Yuuri promised with a dark purr, as they finally ascended the steps into the ballroom.

* * *

 

The masquerade party was gorgeously ostentatious as it was utterly boring and stale. Aristocrats flitted across the ballroom, making small, inconsequential talk, their high-pitched giggles ringing with falsity. The buffet spread left untouched – wasted and ironical as they celebrated Harvest festival that night. Only the flutes of bubbling golden champagne were constantly taken and replaced, an aid to facilitate smooth conversations between the nobles.

Being Christophe’s partner for the night, Yuuri was forced to accompany him for the better part of the festivities as a sign of courtesy, though he kept mostly silent throughout the dull conversations Christophe struck up with the other nobles. Calculating brown eyes raked through the ballroom, categorizing and cataloguing each attendee, looking out for the appearance of his prey with predatory intent.

A cacophony of excited titters from the far side of the ballroom alerted him to the presence of the royals descending from the grand staircase. The twins were dressed regally and in their preferred shades of purple for the king and blue for the prince. Golden epaulettes adorned their shoulders, long looping chains and small tassels hanging off the sides delicately. Their long legs were clad simply in fitted ebony pants of expensive silk, polished shoes bringing them closer to the party. Identical silver masks framed their faces prettily, whorls of rich indigo curling and swirling freely.  The king had his hair braided – practical yet beautiful, although his twin opted to leave his hair down with soft braids running across the sides, exposing more of his elfin features.

Like all other nobles, the two royals were forced to greet and participate in superficial interactions with the other attending nobles. Nobles who scrutinized them for weaknesses behind veneers of polite smiles, exchanging veiled barbs as a test of wit and strength, and lastly, subtly offering their daughters’ hand-in-marriages to the two in a bid to gain an upper hand in the political world.

Yuuri remained as a silent observer near Christophe’s side, taking in the vicious exchanges that characterized parties hosted by aristocrats. His currently subdued aura and common physical features allowed him to blend into the background, unseen and unheard. His sharp eyes picking up important information casually dropped by an unsuspecting noble, his eyes roving around to watch the various power play occurring – all of these filed away neatly in his mind.

A lively tune from the performing orchestra sounded, beckoning its audience into a light-hearted waltz. Without further ado, the centre of the ballroom was cleared efficiently, only couples interested in dancing stayed behind to twist and twirl in time to the music. The king and prince were also pulled into the waltz by overly enthusiastic females with exaggerated coy smiles and fluttering eyes, decorum preventing them from refusing the offer to dance. Both Yuuri and Christophe chuckled at their demise, the strained smiles gracing their faces barely unnoticeable even to trained eyes. Gallantly offering his arm out to his partner, Christophe bowed deeply and teasingly, to which Yuuri accepted with overstated dignity, smirk firmly in place at their antics. The pair eased into the twirling mass gracefully, feet light and sure, dancing closer to the two royals with every step they took. When it was time to pass the partners on, Yuuri sidestepped in a flourish and whirled into the waiting arms of the crown prince.

“Your Highness,” Yuuri breathed out in surprise. “Thank you for allowing me this dance.”

“It is my pleasure,” he murmured back, eyes slowly widening in shock and appreciation as the royal took in Yuuri in his full glory. Although the prince wasn’t his intended target, Yuuri had the strangest and strongest urge to slide even closer to him, to inhale the crisp scent of fresh water, pine and white musk like a man starved of oxygen. Unconsciously, Yuuri temporarily released his hold on his scent, the fragrance of sweet cherry blossom condensing in the space between the two. A sharp inhale from the prince shook Yuuri out of his stupor, forcibly reigning in his scent before it perforated throughout the whole room. Stunned at his unintended actions, Yuuri slid a tentative gaze upwards to find miniscule tell-tale signs of desire and uncertainty blooming within cerulean eyes, a light rosy blush forming just underneath the porcelain mask, mouth slightly agape after the pleasant assault on the prince’s olfactory senses. Just as quickly, the prince regained a semblance of control over his visceral reactions, a charming smile firmly in place even as curiosity sparked within his eyes.

“May I have the honor of knowing the name of my partner?” A deep yet mellow voice questioned lightly.

“Yuuri, Your Highness,” he replied in equally mellow tones. “I apologize for what had transpired a few moments ago. Please forgive my indolence.” It was considered rude to unleash one’s own scent when in close vicinity with another, particularly when permission wasn’t explicitly granted, whether intentional or not.

“Yuuri.” The smooth tenor caressed his name in wonder and reverence. Yuuri shivered minutely at the lilting yet rough accent that curled around his name, forcibly swallowing an aroused groan that very nearly escaped. “Do not worry. Accidents happen from time to time.” The prince waved away his apologies, easy forgiveness permeating from his gentle smile.

“Thank you for your grace,” Yuuri humbled and gave a short yet sincere bow of gratitude.

“Pardon me, but I have never seen you in any of the previous balls before,” the prince started.

“That is true. I live in the next town, and happen to be visiting during the harvest season. I was lucky to be invited by a friend of mine.”

“That is rather kind of your friend. I hope that you had enjoyed the proceedings from earlier, and will have fond memories of this night. May I be so rude as to ask about the name of your lovely friend?”

“Christophe Giacometti, Your Highness.”

“The heir to the Giacometti family; I never knew that he had ties to such a wondrous young man. I wish he would share his connections to me; his social circle seems more exciting than mine,” the prince mock-lamented, eliciting a surprised bubble of laughter from Yuuri.

“I am sure that Your Highness has a far superior social circle than he does,” Yuuri quipped back.

“When the social circle doesn’t have anyone with a fraction of your beauty, I consider it lacking in excitement.” A low, teasing whine coated his words. “I hope that you have been receiving praises after stepping into the palace grounds.”

Shocked at the prince’s bluntness, Yuuri could only stutter out a negative reply. His senses had been continuously assaulted by the breathtaking beauty of the prince, the scent of the alpha complementary to his own, throughout the whole dance, turning his brain into a hazy fog. It was only after a change in music tempo that stirred him out of his stupor, to realize that the prince had essentially hogged him for the whole dance instead of passing him down to another partner as were the norm. A bright tango piece rang out, blanketing the dance floor with an air of sensuality.

Without missing a beat, the prince swept Yuuri into the pair dance, nonchalantly continuing the conversation with practiced ease. “You look gorgeously divine tonight, and every other day I’m sure. I am honored to be acquainted with you, and to dance with you.”

Yuuri tried to wrestle his senses back, albeit futilely, managing a quick nod and mutter of a shy thank you to a beaming prince. His breath hitched in surprise when he was suddenly dipped low, the prince’s hand supporting the small of his back a pleasant heat that slowly warmed his core. His right hand entangled firmly with the prince’s left, gloves dulling the heat radiating from the genial alpha, earning a small, unsatisfactory whine from deep within Yuuri’s omega.

The next movement had Yuuri being swept into the prince's embrace, chest pressing teasingly close to each other. Warm puffs of breath ghosting enticingly between the scant space between the pair. More, the devious omega within purred in delight, wanting nothing more than to snuggle close to the sexy, beautiful alpha within grasp. To press flush against him, to entwine their limbs together until they were inseparable. Unconsciously, Yuuri drifted towards the prince's collared neck, lulled by the mesmerizing scent. Catching himself, Yuuri jerked out of his trance, rationality fighting and drowning out his unbidden instincts. The sudden sharp movement had the prince jerking his head back as well, a sign of his uncontrollable urge to capture more of Yuuri's essence. Yuuri dared a peek into the prince's eyes to find them completely dilated, accompanied by ragged breathing. Both of them sported blushes that told of embarrassment and arousal, the points of contact slowly becoming an unbearable burn through their gloves and shirt.

“Ah…”

“Your Highness…”

Both started and stopped at the same time, unsure. It was with Yuuri’s insistence that the prince cleared his throat and began once more. “I am sorry if I had made you uncomfortable,” he said sincerely. Yuuri was taken aback for he was about to utter the very same words for breaking decorum. In numb shock, Yuuri could only force a nod in forgiveness and lay out his apologies to the prince, head ducking low in uncalled for abashment.

Before either could input another word or two, the lively song drew to a close, forcing a halt in their stilted conversation. As expected of them, the two bowed deeply in gratitude for the dance, although the prince took a step forward to lightly grasp at Yuuri’s hands, pressing his lips gently onto the gloved fingers, a small smile gracing his lips. Yuuri’s functionalities stuttered to a stop there and then, unable to process the whole situation.

“I had two lovely dances with you, dearest Yuuri, and hope to be able to spend more time with you,” the prince murmured lovingly, eyes never once leaving Yuuri’s own surprised orbs. “But alas, my brother seems to be looking for me.” A tilt of his head brought the approaching figure of the king into focus, jarring Yuuri into his predatory mode.

“I thank you for honoring me with your presence, Your Highness. I had a lovely time as well,” Yuuri purred out, now senses sharp and alert with his target slowly reaching them. Reminders of his mission blared out in his mind as he gradually upped his seduction. Eyes turning hooded and sleepy – beckoning; slivers of his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips; a tiny shift of his legs to outline his slender hips that spoke of sensual promises.

The effect was instantaneous. The prince, who received the full brunt of Yuuri’s sexuality, stood ramrod still, cerulean blues dilating and darkening in attraction, enthralled by the siren call. The king’s once certain steps faltered for a fraction of a moment as he took in the beautiful omega within reach, wanton lust shining through darkened blue orbs.

“Brother,” the king all but purred out, eyes intent on Yuuri. “Having a good time?”

“Brother,” the prince acknowledged, a light touch of annoyance coating his word as he was forcibly shaken from his stupor. Wary eyes slid over to assess his twin, body casually shifting to face his king yet preventing a full view of the delectable omega.

A wolfish grin painted across the king’s lips, taking in the sight of his enamored twin. “I was merely curious as to who had caught your fleeting attention, dearest brother, for not one but three songs.”

At his words, Yuuri was startled. He hadn’t realized that they were distracted for far longer than expected. Cursing at his own lapse in concentration, he struggled to smoothen out his placid, polite veneer, capturing the exchange between the two brothers.

“I would love to ask for a dance with this gorgeous young man here.” The king slanted a look towards Yuuri, barely concealing his want while possessive anger flashed through the prince’s orbs, fingers curling tightly. “But alas, I have promised dances with the Earl’s daughters from the both of us.” A sigh of resignation from the king loosened the tension that had racketed between the three of them.

A slow and easy smile lit up the prince’s face at the declaration, of the apparent safety Yuuri now enjoyed with the king’s attention drawn away to other more pressing matters. A casual but firm hand patted the king’s shoulders in shared sympathy, slowly steering themselves away from Yuuri and into the hoard of eagle-eyed ladies waiting to sink their claws into the two royals. Yuuri bit his lips to contain the hiss of annoyance from escaping, his chance of interacting with the king foiled by the prince. He could only watch the two of them stride towards the bubble of waiting nobles; caught the prince looking back and throwing him a quick upturn of his lips before they were accosted by the richly dressed vultures.

Yuuri turned on his heels and strode towards the open balcony in irritation, swiping a flute of bubbling champagne from a nearby server and downing it in a gulp before replacing the empty flute with a fresh one. By the time he reached the thankfully empty balcony, he had loosened his top button and nursing the second flute of champagne in a bid to be rid of the stuffy heat. Familiar footsteps alerted him to his companion, light pats on his shoulder carrying Christophe’s sympathy and encouragement. Yuuri absentmindedly greeted his partner with a nod, mind whirling and nitpicking at his interaction with both twins. Christophe never once interrupted his musings, merely offering his presence and silent support, to which Yuuri was immensely grateful for.

When his thoughts finally stopped whirring, Yuuri threw a quick glance at Christophe and uttered his conclusion, swept away and kept a secret still by the cooling breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers, I am really sorry for the 1 month break! I was away for summer programme and couldn't properly flesh out this new chapter until my flight back recently. Hopefully chapter 7 can be up in 2-3 weeks. Thank you for your patience and I still hope that you had enjoyed chapter 6 and will be looking forward to 7! :)
> 
> Update: To those who are re-reading chapter 6, there is a slight edit at the very early stages of the dance scene. You'd notice that Yuuri offered his first name instead of his last. That's about it :)


	7. Hunted

“We are going to the North for at least a week. One of you will be following us, choose now,” Yuri ordered the two assassins. It was a couple of weeks after the Harvest Festival, where Yuuri failed to capture the attention of either royals once more by the time the masquerade ended, leaving him frustrated at the lack of progress. Yuri had just returned to his suite from a meeting with his cousins, where he had earned an invitation to visit the Nikiforov branch family in a few days. An invitation from the king which he could not refuse and would not refuse for a good reason – dark whispers of the branch family’s illicit manoeuvres in the underground markets that could be a possible lead in their investigations.

“We will need to know the type of situation we’d be stepping into before being able to decide,” Yuuri replied calmly, Phichit by his side with a serious expression.

Yuri levelled a stony look at them, bordering on scathing, and spat out, “The whole compound comprise of alphas, alongside with the rare betas. Most of the other non-familial betas are their servants. From what I recall, there has never once been an omega who had stepped foot into the compound. If they ever did, they were never heard or seen of again.”

The ominous words chilled the two omegas, of the potential overwhelming presence and stench of alphas congregating within a single location.

“If the compound is such a dangerous place for omegas, then why bother bringing us along?” Phichit questioned warily.

“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have sanctioned any omega to follow us,” Yuri all but snapped for his lack of authority. Yuri’s reaction unintentionally sparked a flash of protective anger and beginnings of a growl erupting from Yuuri, his body instinctively shielding his friend from the threat the alpha had issued albeit accidentally. Instinctively recognizing the stance he had unwittingly put Yuuri in, and the danger he had created for himself, Yuri physically cowed and backed off from the two omegas in a bid to escape the rising pheromones and tension within the claustrophobic living room.

Yuuri was visibly gulping down breaths of fresh air, Phichit by his side rubbing soothing circles and releasing calming pheromones. The former’s aggressive pheromones slowly dissipated with the breeze that fluttered the sheer curtains framing the open French windows. Hands unclenched after a few minutes of deep breathing, an apologetic grimace marring Yuuri’s face directed towards his best friend and Yuri.

Bewildered and still shaken from the posturing Yuuri had showcased mere minutes ago, the young alpha accepted the older omega’s apology numbly. “I… What the hell was that?!” Yuri choked out, leashing his snappish anger at the last moment for fear of triggering Yuuri’s instinctive wrath once more.

“You’ve…never heard of it before?” Phichit’s brows were bunched together in confusion, certain that despite his young age, Yuri would have at least known about omega’s deeper instincts in passing.

“No. Tell me.” A stony reply came in.

The two omegas glanced at each other, communicating silently before seemingly coming to a conclusion. Phichit stepped back to check the doors, ensuring the lock was secure, before doing the same for the windows in the room. His senses were peeled for possible eavesdroppers lurking outside the room, gesturing to Yuuri once he had sufficiently determined that the coast was clear. The tan omega ushered the whole party towards the settee, settling themselves comfortably and ready. Sucking in a deep breath to steel himself, Yuuri started, “Omegas have always been thought as the weakest link in the hierarchy, as dictated by the genes and dominant hormones running through their blood – ”

“I know that part already, get to the other part about how an omega can _threaten_ an alpha into submission,” a frustrated Yuri interrupted rudely, earning an exasperated glare from the assassins.

Without preamble, Yuuri launched into an explanation on the history and true inner workings of an omega – behavioural instincts long kept suppressed after decades and centuries of being at the beck and call of alphas; of being threatened to be wiped out when they had tried to oppose the proclaimed rulers of the hierarchy back in the olden days.

A well-known fact was that betas took up the majority, whereas alphas occupied 10% while omegas a mere 2% of the population. A less well-known fact was that omegas were revered in days long gone; their rarity and high fertility rates – their mothering and peaceful instincts that glued the fabrics of society together, all praised by alphas and betas alike. In fact, they were often peacekeepers in villagers, their pheromones ideal to quickly calm situations that were escalating in tension and violence. Very rarely did omegas resort to aggression when dealing with conflicts. Though when they did, the results were often nasty and bloody. It was as though a caged beast was released from its shackles and muzzle; veneers of warmth, smiles and laughter unpeeled, torn and shredded to unveil the raw essence of feral protective instincts that encompassed the core of each and every omega. However, due to the scarce encounters of omegas stripped to reveal even a hint of their very basic nature, tales of omegas’ prowess were light-heartedly reduced to mere tales to scare the misbehaving children, eventually turning into a folk lore that disappeared alongside the once sharp claws of the very same omegas over time.

Moreover, over the years, the people slowly realized the extremely high compatibility of alphas and omegas in terms of child fertility, as compared to the other secondary gender pairings. Furthermore, bonding between couples was possible, but only in a single direction: in a mixed secondary gender pairings, alphas or omegas were the ones receiving the emotions of their partners. In essence, betas were always the ones projecting their feelings towards their bonded partner, never able to receive the same sensations in return. Couples of the same secondary gender would never be able to sustain a bond for more than a couple of hours, and even then, the intensity of the bond was extremely muted to the point where it was equivalent to being non-existent.

However, a two-way, mutual bond was discovered to be applicable only to an alpha-omega pairing around the same time period when more omegas tied up with alphas. The joy, excitement, awe and wonder of being able to be mutually intimately connected with their partners stirred envy from the others who yearned for a taste. They were thus sought after, wooed and proposed to by countless alphas hoping to get into the good graces of their desired omegas.

Although, due to the low numbers of omegas in the first place, jealousy and competition for the omegas affections and attention were rife amongst the alpha suitors. Those who succeeded were lauded, whereas those rejected stewed in misplaced righteous anger. Soon enough, a burning conviction roared into life amongst those jilted: if they can’t have even the scraps of an omega to themselves, _no one else could_. And that was the beginning of an era where terrible acts of depraved humanity birthed within these alphas, eventually spreading across lands and time.

They would scream of the omegas’ indecent, adulterous natures; wicked whispers of the innate wantonness steeped into the omegas’ very bones and blood. Their willingness to spread their legs in lewd invitation for any passersby when they succumbed to their biannual heats. Hordes of hungry alphas took advantage of the omegas’ genteel nature, forcing them into submission, spreading waves of rumours and lies that chipped away at the omegas’ reputation until a new and ugly impression replaced the old.

As one, the omegas sheltered each other from the atrocities they had gone through, yet those who were profoundly traumatized turned to the sweet call of death to escape from their living nightmares. The wrongly accused omegas with a stubborn streak fought back to regain their dignity; fought tooth and nail against the hurled allegations that smeared their names. Resisted the alphas who wanted nothing more than to claim these omegas as a prized possession; to be nothing more than an accessory, paraded around as an alpha’s symbol of status and capability. Hearings were held, judgments made throughout history. Omegas valiantly trying to snatch back their power, innocence and dignity stolen by alphas who pleaded not guilty to their crimes of rape during an omega’s heat. Alphas who slyly convinced the audience that the heat-induced permission forced out of an omega was nevertheless permission and invitation to copulate.

Once or twice during such hearings, deep feral snarls erupted from the suffering omega victims, their human side shrinking within themselves to protect their fragile mental state, letting the omega beast loose. Letting the beast, once carefully contained, but now turned into a rage-fuelled monster ready to rip at the offending alphas. And when that happened, omegas lost all rationality and ability to distinguish friend from foe. They would first go after the alphas present, the biggest threat to them, guided by the distinctive musky scent that all alphas possess.

It took at least a dozen alphas to reign in the rampaging omega each time it happened, leaving behind puddles of blood and numerous scratches, bruises and wounds on those caught in the squabble. Other times, a select few with extremely concentrated alpha lineage would be able to command and coerce the omega into a subservient state, reducing the bloodshed. Most noticeably though, the omega would, more often than not, be muzzled, collared and leashed like a wild animal before being taken away to be locked up. Their fates were oftentimes harsh – whipped and put down like the wild beasts they succumbed to.

Omegas sequestered away in the huddled groups of onlookers were helpless in aiding their kin. They themselves were inadvertently affected by the Alpha Command, or recently dubbed as the Alpha Voice, more-so than the betas, rationality crawling and scraping to resist it. By the time they regained their senses, the remaining omegas were shaking in terror. Fear of a similar, undesirable fate and fear of the omegas being wiped out clouded their rationality. With all the conflicts between alphas and omegas, the population of omegas was slowly whittling down. In order to protect their own, they buried the beast deep within them, suppressing their ferocious, bloodthirsty instincts. They offered themselves up to the alphas, turning themselves into slaves and servants, withstanding the harsh abuse in silence.

At the bidding of nature, the obedient omegas thrived and survived while the resistance were ruthlessly culled. Eyes shining of pity and resignation of the former oftentimes clashed violently with the indignant glares of the latter. A battle of wills that steered the later generations of omegas to desist and to focus on pleasuring the alphas. The alphas were also affected by the bloody turning point in history – alphas born from an alpha-omega pairing possessed the Alpha Command to a certain degree, although it was determinedly less powerful than a Command from an alpha hailing from an almost pure alpha lineage. The omegas entered a second dark age there and then, powerless against the rising numbers of alphas who abused their privilege and gift, turning societies into a cesspit of debauchery.

Over the course of history, those repulsed by countless alphas’ decadent abuse of authority took the initiative to equalize the discrepancy of rights between the three genders that continued to increase day by day. It was only in recent years when more alphas of the newer generation empathized with the omegas, and rallied with the opposing parties to elevate the omegas’ status. To push in place rules and laws that gave back the omegas some of their stolen rights and dignity; that protected omegas against unwanted advances of alphas. But even then, omegas were still viewed to be on the lowest rung of the hierarchy ladder, and continued to be treated so, after years of ingrained stereotypes inscribed in every person’s genes.

“But it doesn’t explain how you could force – ” Yuri questioned, brows furrowed.

“A fluke, nothing more, nothing less,” Yuuri slid his words in firmly with a hard tone that brooked no argument. He was tense once more alongside an alert Phichit, eyes flickering across the room and doors, quietly assessing every single shadow that moved. “And for that, I truly and sincerely apologise for my actions, Your Highness. I swear to you that it will never happen again.”

Recognizing the sudden need for discretion, Yuri merely let loose a loud, disgruntled phrase of forgiveness, overly exaggerating the huff of annoyance that escaped his lips.

“Whatever, that was the most boring history lesson ever,” the young alpha sneered. “At least it was good for killing time around this place.”

“We are glad to have been of help to you, Your Highness,” Yuuri and Phichit intoned together, false servitude sweetly coating their words. Yuri replied with a snort of disbelief at the perfect acting. He then stood up and stretched, joints popping in relief, before heading towards his room.

“Katsuki, pack your stuff.” The order was thrown over the young lord’s shoulder curtly, room doors slamming a beat later in finality of the decision made.

Otabek looked on towards the two, face of neutral apathy. Yet his grave tone carried a heavy weight of sincerity and promise as he vowed to keep Yuuri safe when they were in the branch family’s compound, eyes unflinching as he met Phichit’s steely gaze that promised cold-blooded retribution should his brother figure be harmed.

Nodding in sombre acceptance, Yuuri uttered a teary thank you to the bodyguard, releasing small amounts of pheromones that conveyed relieved gratitude, washed across the whole room and under cracks and crevices by the gentle breeze. However, all three remained on edge, even after the sliver of lingering, almost unnoticeable, musk was long gone.

* * *

 

“Remember, you’re now my personal attendant throughout this whole trip,” Yuri gruffly reminded the older assassin. “I should have requested for betas as well before entering the palace but…” He trailed off softly, not wanting to risk being overheard as the trio walked towards their awaiting carriages.

Yuuri, a respectful distance behind his master, kept his head slightly bowed and replied calmly, “Do not worry, Your Highness. Regardless of gender, I’m still the best choice to accompany you. Besides, no one could have expected this development to occur.”

The young lord nodded mulishly, still annoyed at the fact that he had to bring an omega, despite him being one of the best assassins in the Keep, into a den of extremely hungry and traditional alphas who would not think twice before greedily pouncing on Yuuri once a sliver of chance appeared.

The three finally reached the front garden where the carriages, horses and guards waited patiently for the royals to arrive. Yuuri and Otabek started hauling their luggage into the third carriage, securing them firmly with the in-built straps and buckles. It wasn’t long later when multiple pairs of footsteps were audibly scrunching the fallen leaves underfoot.

“Good morning, little tiger,” the exuberant prince greeted cheerfully in reply to his younger cousin’s snappish growl of “You’re late”. The king greeted likewise but with cool amusement, before getting his attention captured by the Captain of the Guards.

The prince was animatedly riling up a grumpy Yuri when Yuuri and Otabek stepped out from the back of the carriage to take their places behind their young master. A sharp inhale broke Yuri from his annoyed reverie, casting a suspicious glare on his older cousin who stood ramrod still in stunned silence as he took in the presence of the only omega.

“He is coming with us?” The prince questioned harshly, eliciting confusion from both Yuris.

“You know that he is,” Yuri grumbled. “You were there for the meeting, were you not? The king requested me to bring along one of them to be my personal attendant throughout the trip.” Yuuri kept silent, not holding any authority to interrupt the conversation.

“I… was distracted, my apologies. The compound is not a place for an omega. I will talk to my brother –”

“It’s no use, I have already tried. He was adamant about me bringing along a servant,” Yuri muttered angrily. Tense silence descended upon the four, enveloping them in a personal bubble, unnoticed by everyone else around them.

“Then stick close to me – you and your retinue,” the prince relented reluctantly. “You will be under my protection. Just stay close to me throughout the whole trip.”

Stunned at his cousin’s proposal, Yuri could only process his words in shock, only remembering to mumble a hasty, “Thanks Vitaly”, at Yuuri’s subtle nudge. The latter echoed the word of gratitude towards the prince, eliciting a warm smile in response and a flirty reply of “Anything for such a cute omega!”

“Are you sure you’re not the one we should be cautious of?” Yuri deadpanned at his cousin’s retreating back, earning himself a loud chuckle and a wave before the prince disappeared into his assigned carriage.

At the king’s signal for impending departure, the trio silently boarded the carriage, heavy thoughts weighing their mind as the carriages slowly moved off.

“What’s he playing at?” Yuri questioned angrily.

“His eyes spoke the truth – of his intentions and worry,” Otabek replied after a few heartbeats of silence. Yuuri inclined his head in agreement, having sensed genuine fear and conviction in the prince not too long ago.

“If that’s the case then shouldn’t we know the perpetrator who went to Himeros and struck a deal with those vile traders?” The young lord hissed in abrupt realization, only remembering to lower his volume at the warning glares by Yuuri.

“Keep it down, anyone outside can hear you,” Yuuri reprimanded softly but with enough steel in his voice and eyes to force the young alpha to hold his tongue. “We do not have enough evidence to accuse any of them, much less _him_.” Noticing that his charge was about to argue, Yuuri hastily continued, “The prince’s earlier reaction and our conclusions drawn are not concrete enough evidence. You should know that both of them are experts in putting a false front. Even their scents don’t give away their lies, much less their bodies.”

Yuri was forced to agree, for he himself knew the deviousness of the twins – the lack of remorse when they spun elaborate lies, even using their own scents to add a layer of false truth to their stories, much like a certain omega sitting across him. The rest of the ride descended into companionable silence, senses kept alert, until the first break came onto them.

* * *

 

The carriages had stopped at a small but lush clearing, a stream carrying pristine and chilled water winding along with tranquillity. Prince Vitaly had immediately slung an arm around his cousin upon alighting his carriage, forcing him into a cheery, idle chatter. Yuuri and the prince’s beta servants busied themselves with refilling waterskins and preparing refreshments for their masters; hot tea and a dainty selection of cakes to tide them over whilst the lunchtime meal was being prepared.

Yuuri kept both ears out, always placing himself near the three chattering family members to be able to listen in while placidly aiding the other servants. Multiple fires started crackling merrily on the dry twigs, swiftly collected by the guards earlier. Pots and pans placed carefully atop the growing fire, balanced by the smooth stones found near the stream. Low sizzles of hot oil added to the buzz of idle chatter and brisk orders, the fragrance of roasted garlic and shallots wafting through the clearing.

Nothing odd stood out to Yuuri. Conversations that ebbed and flowed were innocent, cheerful even, as the three reminisced about the past, lauded over mischievous deeds that went unnoticed and pondered over the future of the kingdom. No hidden meanings behind the relaxed words that passed through the lips of the three, only affection and the closeness of brotherhood. Even the king, almost always stoic and unapproachable in the palace, had let down his guard to enjoy the presence of his kin. Small smiles graced his lips occasionally, quirking up in wry amusement at the antics of his brother and cousin. Boisterous laughter from the prince rumbled, while the youngest growled and snapped as per his usual countenance, albeit without heat.

The combined appeal of the handsome family upped a few notches as they casually threw glinting smiles and glimpses of dimples. They blinded senses, distracting the working female beta servants as they swooned and gushed over their royals, eternally grateful for the chance to be in their presence. Even Yuuri was affected, lingering traces of his interaction with the prince from the dance flaring to life as the velvety smooth laughter of the young elfish prince warmed his core. He wanted nothing more than to sit and listen to the prince laugh, to stare at his pink lips that stretched into the most beatific smile complemented by the twinkling mirth dancing across his cerulean orbs.

Yet his rational side ruthlessly beat his salivating omega into submission, burying it deep as he fought to suppress his outward reactions. Yuuri was grateful that his suppressants were working – a blend of spices and herbs which dulled his omegan instincts and heavily coated his natural scent of cherry blossoms with a bitter smell, meant to dissuade alphas from approaching.

It wasn’t long before rich soups were ladled into wooden bowls, and an assortment of vegetables, fish and bread plated and served to the awaiting royals and guards. Yuuri and a few other betas were about to retreat to the servants’ corner – under a tree a distance away from the royals, when they were abruptly called back.

“Come, sit with us! There is plenty of space here,” Prince Vitaly offered with a bright smile, audibly sending hearts of the enamoured females behind Yuuri fluttering. Before the servants-in-charge, Gerardo the kindly butler, could politely decline, King Viktor nodded his assent to support his twin’s request. Powerless against the monarchs, the servants could do nothing but to obey – extremely willingly by all of the females present. Even the guards were invited to join in the merry circle, but they had firmly declined, citing the need to stay alert for possible ambushes.

With that sound argument, the prince retorted with a teary pout, earning an almost-audible gasp of despair from his ardent fans and a restrained chuckle from Yuuri. Seemingly hearing Yuuri’s muffled laughter, the prince shot him an amused look and a wink of shared humour, which the former pretended to not notice, instead investing his fullest attention to his hot soup. Hateful glares started to simmer amongst the females who vied for the prince’s attention, their eyes slitting menacingly at Yuuri’s hunched posture as he tried to make himself smaller. Yuuri kept up his pretence until an unsuspected saviour intervened on his behalf.

“Back off with your hissy fits,” the youngest alpha growled in annoyance. “I’m trying to eat in peace here, not get slaughtered by the killing aura going around.”

“Ladies, please treat and protect him as one of your own, yes? It would please me greatly to know that all of you are getting along well,” Prince Vitaly cajoled winningly, capturing the hearts of the females once more as they meekly apologised and promised to carry out the wishes of their dearest prince.

To the side, King Viktor merely observed the drama, eyes shifting to land on Yuuri a couple of times, gaze contemplative. Yuuri pretended to not notice the heavy gaze on his person, shyly accepting apologies and offering his own to the other servants. He fought hard against his prickling assassin’s instincts when the gaze shadowed menacingly for a split second, a small, dark smirk mocking Yuuri at his peripheral visual field. In a as meek and submissive voice as possible, wrestling his slowly withering acting skills and keeping his composure together after that brief flare of unadulterated hunger from the king, Yuuri softly offered refills of lunch for the three lounging royals.

Yuri accepted his second bowl of soup with a stiff nod, digging in almost immediately. Prince Vitaly thanked Yuuri warmly, long fingers brushing against his as he took his own bowl, leaving behind lingering vestiges of heat that sparked pleasantly at Yuuri’s fingertips. King Viktor reached out for his proffered bowl, fingers also trailing a feather-light caress across Yuuri’s and also leaving behind an unforgettable heat – heat that licked at him and threatened to consume.

Despite his omega lying dormant under the effects of his suppressants, it was forcefully shaken awake and dragged to the surface during that brief interlude with the prince and king. The lazy purrs from the prince’s touch morphed into an animalistic rumble when the king’s caress stoked the fire within the caged beast; dark curiosity warred with an instinctive urge to snarl and snap, a clear warning to _get away and never look back_.

Keeping his hands steady and head bowed deferentially, Yuuri waited at his designated spot behind Yuri, unease over the underlying current of swirling menace and falsehood sparking incessantly up and down his nerves. Yet it had never once deterred Prince Vitaly from his lively tales nor tainted the bright chatter that filled the small glade with a hint of life. Young Yuri was also unconsciously on edge, yet not knowing why, allowing himself to be carried along the river of his cousin’s stories while staying attentive to figure out the source of his discomfort.

The feeling never quite left the group, not when the servants broke out to clear the dirty dishes; not when some of the guards split to secure the roads and surroundings; not when the party was packing up and loading their luggage back into the carriages. Although the heavy feeling of being scrutinized was being picked up crystal clear by the three assassins, reverberating through their bones after years of being honed into the finest, sharpest weapons, the rest carried out their dues with normalcy – faithfully, diligently; their blissful ignorance a blessing from the haunting baseness that seeped into the foundations of the current rulers.

The awkward tension that snaked around their legs abruptly, and mercifully, dissipated when the exuberant prince strode right up to Yuri’s personal carriage and declared that he would be joining their party of three on the next leg of the journey. “Yura! Let me in! It’s too stuffy and boring in my own carriage, I can’t take it any longer,” Prince Vitaly theatrically wailed, already climbing into the smaller carriage before his words were completed.

“Vitaly, what the heck?” Yuri countered angrily in shock. “Get the hell back to your own carriage, there isn’t space here for four!” The youngest alpha’s hackles were raised and bristling in annoyance, his free space taken up by the happy-go-lucky prince. Although his words rang true – the carriage proffered to Yuri was the smallest, owing to his status, bringing the prince, struggling to find a comfortable position on the cushioned seat, to a halt. Prince Vitaly tapped his lips rhythmically, fingertips drumming against his plush bottom lips, as he took in the interior with a contemplative gaze.

“Alright, everyone off this carriage!” The prince commanded, almost having to forcibly drag a flailing Yuri out with him. Yuuri and Otabek were the first to alight, the latter having to help subdue and calm a snarling alpha. Prince Vitaly merely dragged his cousin towards his own larger carriage with a merry whistle, unceremoniously shoving him in and climbing on board. He turned towards the still-open door and spied a pair of uncomfortable beta-omega standing outside hesitantly.

“Come in, there’s plenty of space for all,” the prince cajoled, hands gesturing for the two to take their seats.

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Yuuri began, adding a little tremble to his voice. However, his quiet and polite protest was interrupted by the prince, who insisted for the four of them to share his carriage and to please not question his decision. Ultimately, the teary pout returned after Otabek uttered a rejection to yet another offer, capturing Yuuri’s heart once more and forcing a sigh of resignation from the retainer. Powerless, the two climbed in – Yuuri having to sit beside the prince for Yuri vehemently refused after being easily manhandled, whilst Otabek stayed at Yuri’s side as per usual.

It didn’t take long for the prince to fill the silence with empty chatter, mostly directed towards his still irritated cousin who shot back sarcastic barbs whenever he could. Yuuri kept his hands clasped together on his lap; head bowed slightly, soft raven locks covering his thoughtful gaze as he prayed in gratitude for his unexpected turn of events.

The quirks of the animated prince – his idiosyncrasies; the undulation of his tone; the intensity of his expressions and body language; the words he favoured, all of them mentally catalogued in Yuuri as he endeavoured to splice open and understand the man standing next to the king. To understand what made him so alluring to his omega side on the most basic, instinctual manner.

Although a few hours later – a few hours of almost non-stop chattering and inquisitive questions from the crown prince that ran Yuri ragged and snappish, Yuuri was hard-pressed to massage his sore ears that threatened to fall off with another sentence that Prince Vitaly uttered. The exhausted omega was amazed at the talking prowess of the prince, and his theatrics, and honestly wanted to applaud for his superhuman skills of carrying a conversation by himself for hours on end.

By then, Yuuri had fended off multiple curious questions on his origins, hobbies, special skills and even a probing query on whether he currently has a partner. He was surprised that the prince would even bat an eye in his direction, much less initiate a conversation with someone of his lowly rank. His own hesitant countenance when answering, a stark opposite to the open, easily understood gestures favoured by the prince; the latter’s blue orbs widening and narrowing at appropriate places, emotions filling their depths when he told a tale or when he listened attentively. Having been on the receiving end of that laser sharp focus a handful of times, Yuuri sometimes felt scrutinized, that his deepest secrets would be uncovered by those uncanny blues. Other times, the intense gaze of the crown prince never failed to stir a pleasant heat within his gut, spreading the tingling warmth all over, cheeks heating up into a rosy blush.

“So, Katsuki,” Prince Vitaly’s lilting voice shook Yuuri out of his musings. “What is your favourite colour?”

With his guard down, Yuuri was taken unawares and immediately blurted out his most salient thought, barely remembering to tack on the appropriate honorific before he got lambasted for his momentary lapse in attention. “Blue, Your Highness.”

“That’s a lovely colour,” the crown prince mused. “I can’t decide between red or brown for myself, it’s so frustrating! Katsuki, lend me a hand!” Prince Vitaly wailed, arms thrown wide around Yuuri to seek comfort from the frozen omega. Yuri, sitting across the duo, merely scoffed in disgust at his older cousin’s dramatics, unable to believe that the man-child making such a fuss over favourite colours could possibly be leading the kingdom one day, much less be involved in a complicated underground human trafficking network.

Yuuri, on the other hand, squeaked in shock at Prince Vitaly’s brazenness and lack of proper conduct – at odds with his fully awake omega who wanted nothing more than to soak up his comforting and addictive warmth. Internally scolding his omega to within an inch of its life, Yuuri not-so-calmly removed the prince’s hands from his person and cautiously queried, “Why red and brown, Your Highness?”

Prince Vitaly thoughtfully hummed for a couple of seconds, fingers tap-tap-tapping on his lips in a riveting rhythm. “Red because it’s life and death at the same time, yet it can also represent other emotional states. Passion, lust, seduction.” A sudden deepening of the prince’s voice, paired with a saucy, flirty wink tossed at Yuuri to emphasize his point, caused the poor omega to combust into flames while his human side ducked his head in a big show of bashfulness, eyes closing to hide the irritation within.

‘Calm yourself down, you idiotic omega! The job, _your job and identity are on the line_.’ Yuuri repeated his mantra, shoving his shamelessly giggling omega into the darkest corner, locked away with the mental key thrown to the side haphazardly. Yuuri was aghast at the sudden lack of precise control he usually has on his emotions and behaviour even towards other equally flirty alphas who wanted to get into his pants. He wasn’t sure what caused the loosening of his inhibitions, especially since he was still under the effects of the suppressants. By all means, he should be in full control of his cognition. Yet his omega had been let loose a couple of times within the past day. Nothing made sense to Yuuri, a jumbled pile of thoughts messily strewn all over, leading Yuuri to be unable to form a link between them.

“Then, why brown, Your Highness?” Yuuri all but choked out, hoping that the awkward pause in the conversation would be easily dismissed by his expected shy reaction to the unexpected flirting of the prince.

“Why, because of Makkachin, of course!” Prince Vitaly cheered exuberantly, lips curving into the twins’ signature heart-shaped smile at the thought of his precious companion. Yuuri reflected back a smile, fully cognizant of the prince’s adoration and love for the sweet dog. If he wasn’t on duty, he would have kidnapped the poodle as his own, happily frolicking the worries away. As of now, Yuuri contented himself by offering the amiable, gentle dog scratches and little kisses whenever they crossed paths in the palace. The other palace attendants were also enamoured by the adorable poodle, spoiling him rotten with hugs and kibble whenever he trotted their way.

A condescending clicking of tongue cleaved through the hearts-filled atmosphere, an irritated blond alpha imperiously judging the two for putting a mutt in such high adoration. Emerald eyes narrowed, defiant tone ringing out a clear challenge, “Cats are infinitely better than dogs.” This earned a sharp gasp of betrayal from the silver-haired alpha, pheromones charging up and ready to engage to defend his poodle’s honour and dignity. To his credit, Otabek studiously kept his gaze trained outside the window, ignoring the two hissing alphas ready to tear each others’ throats out. Yuuri just sighed in resignation, thankful that the suppressants desensitized his reactions towards alphas’ pheromones, even though the current scent spoke of playful banter instead of a fight to dominate and win.

Despite his initial misgivings, Yuuri prayed for a quicker arrival at the branch family’s compound just so that he could escape from these two barking children before his patience snapped.

* * *

After another day and a half travels, with an uneventful stopover at a lavish inn in a nearby town, they finally arrived at the Nikiforov’s branch family’s home. The horses’ hooves clip-clopped into the sprawling compound, located in the midst of copious amount of pine trees, wheels bumping over the fallen pines in rough tumbles. The carriages rolled up to the porch of the main house – a gigantic yellow-gold building glinting under the setting sun, tiled roofs slanting downwards. Other houses with similar architecture, albeit slightly smaller, were spread out. Carefully trimmed bushes of flowers lined the paths that led from house to house, whilst the pine trees stood strong and tall – sentry-like.

From a quick glimpse out of the window, Yuuri found a small welcoming party – all five alpha males with a beta butler, judging from their builds and scents. He was now back in Yuri’s carriage, after King Viktor forcefully reminded Prince Vitaly about proprieties, waiting for his turn to alight. Not too long later, he was standing outside, under the scrutiny of the five alphas, patiently standing while surreptitiously glancing around the compound – ‘heavily guarded’, Yuuri thought grimly, as he caught sight of black shadows atop branches and behind rooftops. All the while, the twins exchanged greetings with their kin, postures much too relaxed for being within a suspiciously tense environment, either party – the royal guards and the Nikiforov assassins, ready to bare their fangs at each other at the slightest provocation. Yuuri had to stifle his own killing instincts, reining them in to not accidentally lash out when provoked, intentionally or not.

With a few more rapid-fire concealed barbs and venom-tipped smiles exchanged, the travel-weary party was finally allowed entry into the main house. The interior was exquisitely designed – whirls and swirls of flowers inked into the walls, not an inch of space left uncovered. Large portraits of the branch family’s heads hung heavily along the long corridor walls, all the way into the spacious dining room where a scrumptious feast laid bare and waiting. High-backed chairs and an elongated dining table took up the entirety of the room, also showcasing flowers and vines carved into the oak. Tall white candles, lit with a merry glow, were placed along the table, alongside the dimmed orange light enveloping the room, creating a warm, cozy illusion that did nothing to drive away the incessant chill emanating from the very walls of the house.

Yuuri, like all the other servants, were immediately ushered towards the servants’ quarters, not even allowed to have a slow appreciation of the décor. Rules were laid out briskly, duties clarified with sharp nods of understanding. They were then sent to move the luggage into the guest houses – one each for Viktor, Vitaly and Yuri.

Being Yuri’s only attendant, Yuuri had to make multiple trips to and fro the carriage and the guest house – the furthest from the main house and shadowed, for it was half-hidden in shadows; to play the perfect part of a weak omega. The location was perfect for Yuuri, for he lived in the shadows, thrived in it. But it was also perfect for an ambush by any of the overhead prowling alphas – their predatory gazes sending chilled shivers down Yuuri’s spine, for no one would be able to hear his cries for help and arrive in time.

Yuuri quickened his steps, releasing a sigh of relief when all of the luggage were in the foyer and the lock slid into place, followed by the dead bolt. He was not going to take any chances while alone, stilling himself and pricking his ears to detect any abnormalities. He carefully moved through the foyer, fumbling a little before flicking on the overhead light. Bright white light flared out, throwing the area into sharp relief. Yuuri forced himself to relax, taking one of the bags and heading up the short flight of stairs on his immediate right. One by one, he opened all three doors on the second floor; two on the left and one on the right.

The room on the right, the biggest room in the house, was unofficially declared as Yuri’s. The room across his belonged to Otabek, while the third room at the end of the short hallway was Yuuri’s. He slowly carried in the bags littered in the foyer and hung all the garments neatly in their respective armoire, being extra careful to act like a bumbling omega and moving around the house noisily. It also helped him figure out which floorboards were creaky and whiny, making a mental note to avoid them when needed.

With the clothes neatly packed away, Yuuri explored the rest of the house when sudden jarring knocks on the wooden door sent him jogging to receive the visitor; the silent shadow that had been on the roof ever since he started ferrying the bags from the carriage to the house.

Mustering up his most innocent and polite expression, Yuuri pulled open the door, wide enough to have a proper look at the solidly built alpha in dark green and brown leathers, yet narrow enough that the alpha would have to force his way in should he wish to gain entry.

“May I be of assistance to you?” Polite and demure, as expected of an omega attendant working in the palace.

“I was sent to fetch you. We leave now.” The gruff tone of the alpha commanded his attention, brooking no arguments and thereby obligating Yuuri to lock up the house and follow meekly, as he stereotypically should.

The alpha brought Yuuri to the main path, before veering abruptly to the left and away from the main house where the majority of the travelling party were still at. The path grew darker, only sparsely illuminated by the crescent moon hanging in the blue-black sky, as the pair continued forward towards the lonely house sitting in a forgotten corner at the back of the compound.

* * *

 

“Have you seen Guang Hong?”

“I saw him at the orchard a while ago.”

“He’s no longer there.”

“Hey, where’s Guang Hong?”

“Might have been with Phichit; those two omegas are pretty tight.”

“Did Guang Hong just leave you?”

“No, I haven’t seen him the past few days actually. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, but…”

“But?”

“Something feels wrong.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“A few days ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to apologise in advance: I may not be able to update until a month later as July is quite booked for me. I hardly have time to sit down and properly write chapters :( Also hence the longer chapter to date! I highly doubt that I will ever reach 10k words per chapter, maybe that might be my end goal, who knows :)
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading and commenting. I will do my best to reply to you guys (whether through comments or PM) as fast as I can!


	8. Healer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter might be a little uncomfortable for some readers since there are mentions of (implicit & explicit) sexual harassment. Read with caution.

‘ _This is bad,_ ’ Yuuri thought heavily, taking stock of his current circumstance.

He was ordered to enter the small black house, sitting right at the edge of the compound as though fenced off from the rest of the family. It also exuded the same isolated aura, Yuuri bitterly thought, as he realized where he was. The true living quarters of the servants – not the beta servants but the darkly rumoured omega ones who never saw the light of day upon setting foot into the compound.

“Move along.” A stern command rang out, accompanied by a rough shove that sent Yuuri tumbling towards the stairs. A broad hand gripped his shoulders tightly, yanking him upwards and towards the closed bedrooms. Yuuri covertly scented the air, finding only two alphas, including his escort, and possibly seven omegas within the building.

Without bothering to knock, his escort slammed the door wide open. Yuuri was dumped into the room unceremoniously before the door closed and locked behind him. Dim orange lights barely illuminated the hulking alpha standing near the window, arms crossed, face apathetic. Sharp blue eyes assessed Yuuri’s slight form, half-bowed in a show of subservience. Silver tendrils whipped at his face when he jerked his head sharply towards the unmoving silhouette on the bed.

“Get her out of the drop.”

The order was sharp and precise, the steely undertones prodding Yuuri into action. He tripped over his feet, trying to get to the bed quickly, the sour stench fear carefully exuding from his pores. What greeted him was a peaceful sleeping figure, a girl no younger than him, brown locks framing the strains of fear and worry creasing her youthful face. Apart from the slow and deep rhythmic breathing, the young omega was deathly still, not even a flutter of her eyelids present, signifying her current state of being enclosed within an omega drop.

The phenomenon of an omega entering a drop was heard of, yet remained uncommon due to the extreme circumstances needed to trigger it. In the last show of defence when facing a threat, an omega can resort to entering a drop, essentially turning him or her into an empty vessel. The main purpose was to protect the mind from shattering under the stress, where the mind and body undergoes a period of hibernation to promote healing. Oftentimes, the omega can exit from their own drop by themselves, when they sense that the danger has passed. Although in more severe cases, professional help may be needed to oversee the situation and even force the omega out of the drop when deemed medically critical, or when the omega has been in the drop for more than three to five days. Other times, when professional medics weren’t readily available, the nearest omega would be pulled in to help assist as their uniquely omegan calming pheromones can be used to coax their omegas kin out of their drop, an apparent signal of safety.

Though in this case, Yuuri would be forcefully pulling the omega girl out of her terrified drop under the orders of the silver-haired alpha guard looming over them. And that was what he did, heart murmuring apologies throughout the whole ordeal, mind furiously whirring to think of possible solutions to protect her from whatever triggered her drop. With the alpha scrutinizing his every move, Yuuri was backed into a corner, unable to truly help the girl; unable to risk his own exposure.

While kneeling beside the low bed and evaluating the girl’s condition, he muttered lowly a request to the waiting alpha, “I will need a bowl of warm water, a clean cloth and a pitcher of water, Sir.” Hesitant that he’d have crossed a boundary, Yuuri relaxed minutely when the alpha finally stopped staring daggers at him and left the room. The relief was, however, short-lived as the alpha almost immediately returned with another omega servant in tow, carrying the requested items. The latter, an even younger brunette with worried azure eyes, placed the bowl gently beside him and a small pitcher of water with an empty glass on the dressing table, before bowing deeply once and exiting.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Yuuri quickly smoothed his features and proceeded to release his cherry blossoms scent, heavily tinted with cinnamon and a hint of fresh water. It started off small, barely noticeable, and grew thicker and more concentrated as he started to gently wipe the young girl’s face, neck and exposed arms with the warm, wet cloth. Yuuri started a low hum – a lullaby mostly forgotten over the years yet deeply ingrained in his very bones. The melody struck a chord in the girl as her face relaxed and lost their earlier petrified creases. Noticing his efforts being unnaturally slow, given that the room was already saturated with his pheromones, Yuuri stopped his ministrations, taking a deep breath as he did so.

Even through the almost sickly-sweet pheromones, there was still a lingering musk that cut through it. However insignificant an amount it may be, the female omega’s instincts still remained extremely sensitive to anomalies while in a drop. Yuuri braced himself and spoke out firmly, requesting the alpha to leave the room, explaining that with his scent still present, Yuuri would unable to coax the girl out of her drop. He received an adamant rejection even before he finished his sentence, the alpha sharply stating that he could control his scent gland well enough. Having expected the rejection, Yuuri calmly rebutted that the female was even more attuned to her immediate surroundings, and even with the most iron-clad control, minute amounts of pheromones still tended to leak unknowingly.

A battle of wills commenced in the claustrophobic room, the alpha’s musk turning bitter in anger at Yuuri’s stubbornness to yield. Loud raps on the door cut through the tension, the alpha escort from earlier stepping into the room upon sensing the killing intent from his kin. He was taken aback by the sheer force of pheromones circulating in the air – the sweetness of Yuuri’s clashing with the bitterness of the alpha’s.

The clash and unexpected appearance of the second alpha had also unconsciously elicited a response from the other omega present. Her own scent dulled considerably, worried streaks returning to her face and her limbs turned colder by the minute. The drop in temperature troubled Yuuri for it signalled a further declination in the girl’s condition: her drop had worsened in reaction to the rise in threats permeating the room.

“If this goes on any further, she will no longer be able to come out of the drop, with or without assistance.”

Yuuri uttered in absolute conviction, partly concerned for his fellow omega, partly furious at the alpha who refused to move from his damned spot next to the window. Even his own omega was howling in rage, muttering curses and promises to slowly and painfully maim the unmoving alpha, to give him a proper reason to be unable to move. Yuuri’s restraint over his omega almost snapped when the two alphas finally made their leave, his omega snarling at their retreating backs. Sighing in relief, Yuuri opened the windows and turned on the nearby fan in a bid to ventilate the room and remove the vestiges of musky alpha. At this point, he was thankful that the room faced the forest, shuddering at the thought of ravenous alphas coming after him in hordes upon having a whiff of the released potent pheromones.

Once certain that the air was clear once more, Yuuri hastily closed and locked the windows, restarting his efforts once more. With the whirring fan in the background, he started to release his scent and patted the girl’s face and neck with the now lukewarm cloth, humming all the while. It took a considerable time this round, for she had regressed deeper into her drop. Warmth returned to her limbs, reassuring Yuuri that he was not too late. He began to massage her pressure points, starting from the fingertips all the way to her neck, feeling the muscles relax as each knot was released with each skilful stroke and press of his fingers. It seemed like an eternity of massaging and humming before the young omega’s eyelids started fluttering; it started off slowly, almost a trick of the light, until the movements became more insistent. By then, her breathing broke out of the oddly unnatural steady rhythm.

Continuing with his ministrations, Yuuri’s worries were assuaged when the girl finally blinked her eyes open, blearily scanning her surroundings. Her eyes widened in shock upon registering Yuuri’s presence, to which Yuuri hurriedly tried to calm her down, thankful that the thick pheromones smothered her own scent. He needed to extract as much information as he could before the alphas discovered that she was awake.

“You’re fine for now,” Yuuri gently shushed her, eyes crinkling with kind warmth as he continued to release his scent. He could not lie to any other omega when he was in this state. However trivial the lie may be, it would subtly change his scent and alert the surrounding omegas, for all of them would be attuned to any minute changes. “My name is Katsuki and I need to ask you some questions.”

“Are you a new omega? You’re the first male I’ve ever seen, I don’t think they’ll go easy on you,” the young girl rambled in a hurried, petrified whisper. Her grey eyes darted about as her breathing got shallower and shallower.

“Hey, calm down. Hold back your scent and breathe with me. We can’t let them know that you’re awake yet, okay?” Yuuri forced her to look into his own cinnamon orbs, breathing deeply with her until she calmed down somewhat. When certain that she was not entering another bout of panic, and that the alphas would not be entering anytime soon, Yuuri poured her a glass of cold water, urging her to quench her thirst.

“How are you feeling now?” Yuuri murmured, brushing long broad strokes of her hair.

“Better, thank you,” she muttered back, equally quiet, finally calm although a current of unease belied her actual state.

“I’m so sorry for bringing you out of that drop. I wouldn’t have, if I could.” Sincere regret shone in Yuuri’s brown orbs, for his inability to object.

“I wasn’t expecting them to bring in a new omega to force me out of it,” she confessed. “The others are either too young to know what to do, or are too terrified to bring omegas out when they enter a drop.”

“I take it that omegas here have entered drops before then?” He questioned, horror coursing within him when she nodded in affirmative.

“Not that many, but still more than expected. Although, they tend to be the younger ones. I’m one of the oldest omegas to have dropped in a long while.”

“May I know how old you are? And how you got here?”

“18 this coming Spring. The rest are around 14. I was taken from my home, much like the rest. Some were sold here.”

Numb shock burned his blood, boiled it even, as he fought back his baser instincts to storm into the two alphas standing guard and liberating the omegas trapped in this prison.

Yuuri’s mouth opened to question the reason for her drop, but his senses picked up on a heavy aura heading up the staircase – most likely one of the alphas intent on checking his progress. Shoving back his question for another opportunity, he instead asked, “What’s your name?”

“Klaridia.”

“Alright, Klaridia, you need to lie down and pretend that you’d just woken up. Forget the whole conversation,” Yuuri murmured hurriedly, eyes grave as they pleaded Klaridia to cooperate.

Sensing the sincerity and urgency from his scent, she complied, sinking back into the mattress. Her eyes hooded in exhaustion, hands cradling the half-full glass as she slowly sipped from it.

“Katsuki,” a soft voice sounded out, barely perceptible. Yuuri tilted his head in acknowledgement, hands back to cleaning Klaridia with the lukewarm cloth.

“There are more.”

Before Yuuri could clarify her ambiguous statement, the heavy footsteps stopped outside the door, waiting expectantly, severing their communication for that night.

* * *

 

Upon noticing the awakened Klaridia, the stern-faced alpha guard from earlier ushered Yuuri out in haste, not even bothering to clear the used bowl and cloth. Before the doors locked in an ominous finality, Yuuri caught a glimpse of young Klaridia – face drawn and shoulders hunched to withdraw from the approaching alpha.

An internal war waged within – his omega side crying out to save his kinsmen, meeting an obstinate rejection from his rational, human side; they would never make it out of the house with seven other omegas, much less escape from the compound. Gritting his teeth in burning regret, Yuuri took in calming breaths before descending the stairs to find his escort waiting for him at the foyer. He was silently led out of the house, without having the chance to see the other omegas housed within.

The pair noiselessly made their way back to the main house, Yuuri’s own cloth shoes lightly tapping across the smooth rocks that lined the pathway. They abruptly stopped at a sharp bend, clouds hanging heavily, casting everything into an unnatural darkness.

“You are forbidden to speak of what had happened.” The command was rough and brusque, trickles of the Alpha Command seeping through his words. Yuuri acknowledged the order with a muttered word of obedience, eyes strained downwards and burning through the pathway with the intensity of his stare. His omega bristled at the use of the Command, the pungent tang of it leaving an acrid aftertaste.

“Should anyone ask, you were always at the servant quarters learning the ropes. We will know if you diverted from your orders.”

No doubt they would, if they continued to keep vigilant watch over the visiting royals. He’d either have to come up with new communication methods, or stay silent until he could pass on the information to Lilia.

The alpha continued to stare daggers at Yuuri’s bowed figure. Confident that Yuuri would carry out his orders, strengthened by the Command, he turned on his heels and strode on. At the punishing pace they were brisk walking in, the pair reached the back of the main house within a minute, Yuuri huffing and puffing as he put on a convincing show for the unaffected alpha.

A series of knocks on the servants’ door rang out, a pattern of long and short raps. A few heartbeats passed before the door creaked open, an elderly gentleman with wispy greying hair – a beta, dressed finely to signify his butler status, bowed in recognition of his master. A whispered conversation rushed between them, too low for Yuuri to pick apart their words, before Yuuri was ushered into the servants’ quarters by the butler.

“It’s a little late, but I’m sure there is still food left,” the butler informed him, sincere kindness seeping into his words. “Go on and fill your belly, before you start on your duties.” Yuuri was brought to the kitchens, the butler light-heartedly negotiating with the grumpy cook for Yuuri’s share of dinner. A plate of potatoes, beans and diced meat was thrust roughly towards Yuuri, almost spilling gravy onto the greasy floor. With a genuine word of thank you, and a deep bow to show his appreciation to the cook, Yuuri was then herded to a corner where he could sit and eat in peace.

“Thank you, Sir,” Yuuri uttered earnestly, his ingrained manners coming into play.

“It is quite alright. And please, don’t stand on courtesy. Call me Antonio; that’s what everyone calls me as well,” the butler laughingly reassured Yuuri, crinkling his face into kind warmth that melted Yuuri’s guards down.

Yuuri thanked him once more before he was urged to start eating his dinner; he was warned that the grumpy cook would toss it away if he took too long. As Yuuri spooned the heavenly dinner into his salivating mouth – lukewarm but still undeniably scrumptious, Antonio left him be with a cheery goodbye. Yuuri eyed his retreating figure with distrust, slipping firmly into his servant persona as he finished his meal and helped out with the clean up.

* * *

 

“Where were you?” Yuri barked, his young voice roughened with irritation and an undercurrent of worry. He knew firsthand how dangerous the whole compound was to an unclaimed, unmated omega. The very fact that Yuuri was under the wings of the royal family loaned him a certain modicum of protect, however, the Nikiforovs had their own means of getting around obstacles when they start to covet.

 “At the servants’ quarters, Your Highness,” Yuuri dutifully replied, distinctly aware of the presence standing guard outside.

The three were back in their lodging, Yuri having escaped the dreary dinner talks that had escalated into veiled barbs and threats being tossed around nonchalantly much earlier than Yuuri had from his duties.

“Bullshit,” the young alpha growled, disbelief pouring out from his aggressive tone. “Otabek couldn’t find you in the quarters or in the guest house.”

Shooting a wary look at the other silent assassin, leaning casually at the door jamb of the sitting room, Yuuri flicked his gaze rapidly between Otabek, Yuri and the ceiling, conveying the words the alpha wanted to hear. “I must have already set foot to the servants’ quarters when you sent to look for me. Please accept my deepest apologies, Your Highness.” A low bow, tone deferential – the language of a submissive attendant, further soaked in the deep musk of subservience that permeated the whole room, wisps of it flowing out of the window.

Yuri Plisetsky merely clicked his tongue in distaste, unable to push his attendant any further when he tapped into his stubborn streak. He was reminded yet again that Katsuki was a formidable assassin and opponent in his own right; cold intelligence veiled behind innocent cinnamon-hued eyes, calluses from a decade of training easily passed off as scars from manual labour, lethal grace ingrained in his muscles put on a marvellous show to portray an unsuspecting servant. Even if he fought alongside Otabek, he wasn’t quite sure if they would have an upper hand against Adenite’s Wolf, after how the latter had forced a trained Northern assassin into submission with casual ease at The Pits. He was lucky that Katsuki Yuuri remained his ally, for now.

* * *

 

Yuuri was glad that he wasn’t harassed or accosted by any other Nikiforovs lying in wait within the shadows in the following days. However, his concern for the omegas, hidden right at the back of the compound like a dirty little secret, never once abated. Yuuri had been tempted to sneak back to the unassuming black house a few times, always stopped by a suspicious glare from Yuri or the multiple presences of the alpha assassins.

Just like he had promised, Yuuri kept his mouth shut regarding the omega house, driving Yuri and Otabek mad with curiosity. He was in the midst of devising a new communication system, while juggling his duties to his apparent master and lending a hand to the even busier beta servants hired by the branch family.

Yuuri was walking back to the kitchens after serving dessert to the dining room – a lovely chocolate-coffee cake soaked in sweet liquor, when he was unceremoniously yanked into a shadowed corner below the arching stairwell in the main house.

A sharp but unwelcome nose grazed his scent gland, meaty hands capturing Yuuri’s overhead in an unrelenting grip, releasing an animalistic howl from Yuuri’s omega beast that was rudely awakened by the rough brute. Yuuri had to clamp his mouth shut in tight control, remembering to release the appropriate pheromones in response to the rough manhandling. The sour tang of his own fear coalesced with the alpha’s own musk, a stench so overpoweringly disgusting that Yuuri gagged unconsciously.

“Please, let me go.” The plea was weak and pitiful, even to Yuuri’s own ears yet he had to continue with his act of pathetic helplessness. Cunning blue eyes met his straight on, forcing Yuuri to lower his gaze lest he angered the alpha with unwarranted insubordination.

 “Don’t you smell absolutely ravishing,” a dark croon caressed the raised goosebumps rapidly forming on Yuuri’s skin. “I wonder if you taste equally delectable.” The hungry undertones were palpable in the scant space between them.

Yuuri had to make himself keen loudly in abject horror, distress rolling off in undulating waves – surely noticeable to anyone walking nearby, in order to suppress his knee-jerk reaction of slamming his knee into the alpha’s groin. At least the tension that grabbed hold of his muscles mercilessly could be easily explained away by his forced submission instead of sharply-honed preparation to start slitting throats for the vulgar disrespect to his person.

With one hand occupied in immobilizing Yuuri, the other was free to roam to its own heart’s desire. Callous fingers traced Yuuri’s face lightly, mockingly reverent. A sudden sharp grip dug painfully into his jaws, forcing Yuuri to look up and into the alpha’s lusty gaze. Brown pupils shrank reflexively, as Yuuri added believable tremors into his acting repertoire, all the while cataloguing the male in front of him.

Blond hair and blue eyes, with the Nikiforovs’ aristocratic features of sharp, angular cheeks and nose – a handsome face by default, Yuuri couldn’t deny. But he would look better with bloody crooked nose, Yuuri thought viciously, his signature right hook itching to fly.

The alpha seemed pleased with the sight of a whimpering omega under him, smirk enlarging as his eyes raked shamelessly over Yuuri’s body, left hand following the visual path not too soon after. It left a trail of blazing hatred the lower it went, the further it travelled. Yuuri was relieved that his tunic could not be easily tugged askew, the thick material smothering the unwanted touch of the stupidly brazen alpha. A rough grasp of his crotch had Yuuri clamping down on his lips to prevent a hiss of annoyance from escaping, lest the interested alpha mistook it for interest. The very same hand was about to lift the knee-length tunic for a better access to his pants when it was abruptly shoved away, along with its owner, with an extremely livid snarl.

“Get your rutting hands off my servant,” barked Yuri. He had appeared in time to halt the alpha’s roving ministrations, placing himself as a barrier between the unnamed alpha and Yuuri’s fraying control. Despite being the shortest, the young alpha had established a domineering presence within seconds and was able to force back an older alpha – his bloodline ringing true.

“But Yuri,” a lascivious purr raising said alpha’s hackles further. “Sharing is caring. Haven’t this family taught you anything?”

“Fuck off, Romanov. This omega is _mine_.” The pure primal possession in Yuri’s tone brooked no debate over his property. Meanwhile, Yuuri had to cajole his raging omega beast to calm down and listen to reason – that they were being protected by Yuri, and no, they weren’t his to claim.

Yuuri could sense another wave of oily words about to spew from Romanov’s mouth when he suddenly stiffened, his blue orbs losing the prominent lust. The source of his abrupt change strolled into view, polite jovialness in the tone concealing the leashed fury in poor fashion.

“Having a party without us? How cruel, Yuri, Romanov.” A dark, velvety croon rang out in quiet authority, words deliberately pointed towards the latter. King Viktor stood under the harsh light, scrutinizing the scene with tight lips. Whereas a playful pout adorned Prince Vitaly’s angelic features. Both of their cerulean orbs glittered menacingly, in warning.

“Please don’t be mistaken, Your Highness, there was nothing happening here,” Romanov replied steadily, face and tone bland, not giving away his lie that easily.

“If sexually harassing my servants is the definition of ‘Nothing’, I’m sure as hell that the definition can be stretched to include me shoving ten sharp knives up your ass,” Yuri all but growled. "I can even make it pleasurable for you, Romanov." The young alpha sneered with a dark promise.

“Language, Yuri.” The chastisement by the king was mild, compared to the icy glare that had taken root in his and his twin’s eyes, intently focused on the unrepentant alpha. “You may be a cousin of mine, but this omega is under my protection. Anyone who lay a hand on him will be warranted the death penalty.” His declaration was blunt, the threat sharpened considerably by the pure Alpha authority inundating the darkened, cramped space shared by three highly strung alphas and one edgy omega.

“Leave, and inform the rest to keep their hands to themselves. Or I’ll keep them instead.”

With a slightly shaky nod of assent, Romanov fled the scene with the last of his dismantled pride, smart enough to not cross his more powerful cousins.

“Katsuki, are you alright? How are you feeling?” The soft questions of concern pouring out from the king were an abrupt change from his earlier displeasure. The ice in his eyes melting to twin pools of worry and ire when Yuuri mutely confirmed his welfare and that he was abruptly accosted and molested by Romanov earlier. Yuri stood to the side, not willing to disrupt the king yet looking a little put off at not being the first to ask after Yuuri’s wellbeing. Prince Vitaly hovered nearby, scanning Yuuri for injuries sustained.

The whole area stank badly of enraged alphas and a scared omega – like rotten eggs and soured cream left exposed under a hot sun. It was no wonder that the royals, with their heightened sense of smell, came to investigate the anomaly existing within the pristine cleanliness of the main house.

Still trying to suppress his gag reflex with each inhaled breath, Yuuri shot a hidden, envious glare at Yuri who could freely wrinkle his nose whilst in the presence of the king and prince. The latter two, however, seemed oblivious to the rank air, more intent on confirming the wellbeing of Yuuri, leaving him baffled at their unexpected behaviour.

“It’s not safe for you here, or at your current lodging,” Prince Vitaly murmured. His broad hand curled around Yuuri’s wrist, gently tugging him towards clean air. With how he had been manhandled earlier, Yuuri’s wrists were a little sore and bruised, eliciting furious hisses from the three alphas when it was brought to light.

“Stay with me – Yura and your two attendants.” The proposal was abrupt and unexpected, causing Yuuri to blink owlishly at the offer made, mind whirring in confusion as he tried to mentally pick it apart. Yuri, on other hand, let out an aggravated noise of dissent, about to argue against it.

“Brother, wouldn’t it be better if they moved in with me instead?” The prince persuaded. “I did promise to take care of them.”

“It would be more effective in reiterating their positions and their protection from me if they moved in to my house,” the king rebutted. A steely glint in his eyes solidified his intent, clashing heatedly with the annoyance that flared up within his own brother’s.

“They should be my responsibility, brother.” His voice was low and in control, a slight growl rippling in the undercurrent.

“And they’d be safer with me. That is our priority.” The finality in his tone was clear.

Yuuri took in the volley of words in stride, mentally re-evaluating everything he knew and learnt. He was perplexed, understandably so, by the contradictory actions exhibited by the twins. Yuuri hissed quietly in irritation, at the complexity in unravelling the twins. His thoughts were dashed temporarily, however, when Yuri finally cut into the conversation without remorse.

“If the two of you can’t decide, then we will continue staying in our current place.”

“Yura, no,” the response from the king was swift. “Transfer your belongings to the spare rooms in my place. Brother, it’s for the best.” The last sentence was directed towards the prince, mouth open and ready to oppose his decision.

“I will send a couple of guards to your abode. Bring your things over once you’re ready.”

Vexed that his own autonomy was taken away so casually by his cousins, Yuri snapped. “Otabek is more than capable of securing our safety. It’s also late, in case you haven’t realized. If we’re moving, we’re moving tomorrow.”

A long pause blanketed over the four, all of them assessing. Each of them unwilling to give in.

“Fine,” the king began. “Move in tomorrow. But we will escort you back tonight.”

The compromise was difficult for Yuri to swallow, his teeth gritting at the lack of faith in his skills. Although he gave in with a curt nod, emerald orbs blazing in indignation.

Prince Vitaly was no better, seemingly dissatisfied that his cousin wouldn’t be lodging with him as expected. However, his body didn’t betray his displeasure, only the infuriated spark in his darkened orbs spoke true of his opinions. It never once left his eyes, not even after escorting them back and retiring for the night.

“This is getting more and more troublesome by the day.” The statement rang true in the lavish bathroom, a quiet drop of disgruntlement from Yuri that rippled across the still water in forewarning. Yuuri busied himself with adjusting the bath water’s temperature, then adding in fragrant bath salts. He was heedful of the walls that listened and spoke in hushed whispers, willing to trade secrets for secrets. At least the windows were shut tight, preventing the playful breeze from snatching their conversation up and out in seconds. Steam curled around the bathroom as a result, fogging up full-length, gilded mirrors.

 “We can work around that,” came the calm reply from Otabek. He was standing guard next to the open door, solidly built frame half-in and half-out of the bathroom. “More importantly, Katsuki, how are you feeling?”

The concern over his assault warmed his heart immensely in the first hour. However, it had slowly morphed into something dark and ugly when their questions turned incessant and overly probing; each word carrying an undercurrent of a lack of faith in his abilities. His skills as a lethal assassin seemingly undermined with each worry posed.

“Nothing to worry about,” a curt reply volunteered by Yuuri. His cinnamon orbs flashed golden, a sign of his and his omega’s increasing ire. Thankfully, both Otabek and Yuri got the hint loud and clear, reminding themselves to not cross the slight but deadly omega.

Satisfied that the bath was done, Yuuri gestured at his younger counterpart with jerky irritation to remove his garments. And as usual, he was rejected and booted out of the bathroom, alongside Otabek, with a shrill shriek of contempt and a loud slam of the heavy door.

“I am more than capable of washing up by myself! Out, you perverts!”

Chuckling at the young alpha’s predictable words, the two patiently waited for Yuri to finish soaking in peace.

Catching Otabek’s gaze with a pointed stare, Yuuri flickered his eyes in a series of movements. Small bursts of honeysuckle floated between them in minute amounts. Then, excusing himself to his other duties, Yuuri slipped downstairs for a final check of their security, extinguishing each lit lamp as he slowly returned back to where Otabek waited. Soon enough, the only lights left illuminated the staircase, casting Yuuri and Otabek in long shadows. Leaving them to stew in their thoughts in companionable silence, the dark veiling their features as they reviewed the information shared between them.

* * *

 Living with the king was awkward, to say the least.

All of them had to be extra cautious of the words they said, scrutinizing every single possible innuendo before they uttered their sentences; to be wary of both offending the king and revealing their hidden agendas by accident.

The king, to Yuuri’s surprise, was nothing like his public persona, although Yuuri hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with the man beneath the crown back in the palace. He seemed younger, more carefree – jerking Yuuri to the realization that the king was not that much older than himself.

“Katsuki! Join us for tea, wouldn’t you? Yura’s sulking at me today,” he would cheerfully drop when Yuuri served them their teatime treats. Other times, King Viktor would ask about his day and chatter on about anything and everything – like an equal.

He would also often badger Yuuri to drop the formalities and call him Viktor, leaving Yuuri to stammer a hasty reply and scuttle away. He wasn’t particularly strict about formalities and rules when they were in the house – too stifling, he had said, cheerily requesting the three new housemates to be his friends. Although Yuuri and Otabek had firmly declined, knowing the social boundaries holding their roles in place.

“You look awfully familiar, Katsuki. Have I seen you before?” Sometimes, the king would have a glitter in his eyes, reminding Yuuri of his shrewdness and cold-hearted capability.

“No, Your Highness.” Yuuri’s reply was calm, eyes averted as per the custom.

“Even your name sounds familiar,” King Viktor continued to ponder, the glint in his eyes never once letting up. “There’s only one household with your name, I believe. But they aren’t in any of the streets near the palace. Apatite, maybe?”

“I believe it is the Garnet district, Your Highness.” Yuuri hesitantly surrendered the information, wary of his motives.

In response, he merely hummed a low tune, eyebrows dipping in consternation as he struggled to place a reference to the new information. “Garnet, home to tourism… Ah, the Katsuki’s Yuutopia! The one with the best pork cutlet bowl!”

Startled at his enthusiasm and praise of his mother’s cooking, Yuuri could only reel in shock for a moment, before answering humbly, “Head Chef Seung Gil’s cuisine are far more exquisite, Your Highness.” Despite the forced answer, Yuuri felt a sense of smug satisfaction and pride for his mother’s cooking, as well as consternation for he had not recollections of the king having tasted his mother’s dish at all.

“I had requested the palace chefs to recreate the dish, but they never tasted the same. Even the aroma was a little off, not quite fragrant as the one from Yuutopia,” the king lamented. “Do you think you can replicate the dish from Yuutopia?” He implored suddenly, catching Yuuri off guard when watery eyes trained on him.

“I apologise for my incompetence, Your Highness, but I am unable to do so,” Yuuri humbled in response. A lie, for he had perfected the recipe after years of shadowing his mother in the kitchen, though he was getting increasingly wary about the whole conversation.

“Nonsense,” King Viktor waved his worries away, seemingly seeing through the lie. “The kitchen in this house is free to be used. I have more than enough faith in your capabilities. I expect dinner tomorrow to be made by you.” A wink stamped his final decision on the matter, the heart-shaped grin thrown at Yuuri sending him sighing secretly.

As Yuuri made to leave the room, cursing the king for planting more work for him – even though the thought of making his favourite meal was tantalizing, vague tendrils of memories slithered in his mind as he struggled to recall when Yuutopia had gotten visits from the king.

* * *

When the royal twins turned twelve, the cusp of adolescence, a grand festival had been thrown for them. After being cooped in the palace for the past years of their lives, they were granted permission to freely roam the town for a year as long as they were chaperoned by their guards. An act by the late king and queen to introduce their two darlings to the world; to know more about their people and to learn to interact with the commoners.

Yuuri was only eight then, when a pair of beautiful, silver-haired cherubs appeared in the hallways of their inn, politely enquiring about their business. Well, one was calmly asking while the other chattered away excitedly, animated eyes raking the décor and atmosphere, drinking them in thirstily. Yuuri remembered standing behind the curtained doorway, gaze transfixed on the two ethereal creatures gracing their home, his mother courteously replying each and every query with a full smile and a hearty laugh.

Hearing their stomachs growl, the two princes flushed heavily in embarrassment and made a move to leave the establishment when Yuuri’s mother, Hiroko, warmly invited them for lunch at the dining room. When Yuuri saw the three, and the many guards, ambling towards his direction, he made a small meep of fright and scrambled to the safety of the bustling kitchens.

The twins were amazed at the simplicity and cleanliness of the whole inn. They walked through the partitioned doorway to be led across a long, wooden corridor that overlooked a pristinely kept garden, then ducking under another semi-curtained doorway to be greeted with a bustling dining room. The patrons immediately ceased their conversations to bow to the princes, only to be waved off cheerily by them, requesting the patrons to treat them like they would to any other children who ate there. The twins were definitely a deadly pair to be reckoned with, already snaring hearts with ease at their tender age.

They managed to find a table that had a view of the tranquil garden outside, the other guards spreading around and outside the establishment, keeping out of the way. The tables were low and sturdy, plump cushions a replacement for chairs. Viktor and Vitaly were immediately taken with the place, each vowing to a laughing Hiroko that they would be her best customer ever.

Hiroko waved at the direction of the kitchens, and soon enough, young Yuuri tottered towards them, gravely clinging on to a tray laden with utensils, small appetizers and two cups of chilled tea with a death grip.

Yuuri carefully, but surely, placed his offerings on the table with quiet concentration. Though once his job was done, he had hugged the tray and hid behind his mother’s legs, a double barrier between him and the princes.

“Thank you!” The first prince chirped.

“Thanks! You’re so good at this, and really cute too,” the second prince chimed in.

At his mother’s quiet encouragement, Yuuri poked his head out shyly, the red-and-black lacquered tray covering half of his face, his large cinnamon eyes peeking out with a bashful flutter. “You’re welcome,” he whispered, a pink flush staining his cherubic cheeks.

Hiroko was apologetic for her son’s behaviour, explaining that he had a scare recently and wasn’t comfortable with meeting new people. Viktor and Vitaly nodded in empathy, lips quirking in identical sympathetic smiles.

“If you want to, you can sit with us and talk. We won’t bite,” the one on the right offered kindly. “And it’s alright if you don’t want to. Don’t be afraid of us.”

Yuuri wasn’t quite sure which prince was who, and both of them had worn the exact same attire that day which made things a few times more complex for his young mind. All he knew was that they were kind – and smelled kind enough to his sensitive nose. He was an anomaly who presented prematurely early, ending up with his senses constantly on overdrive. Hence his trust in them, especially his nose since scents couldn’t lie, or so his eight-year-old self believed.

An unsure look crossed Yuuri’s face as he looked up at his sweet mother for help.

“Maybe later?” she suggested, patting her son’s head gently. Yuuri nodded shyly, peeking at the princes for their permission and hoping that they wouldn’t be offended. To his relief, they grinned in understanding, never once begrudging him for his decision.

“Do you boys have any favourite food that you’d like to eat?” Hiroko asked.

“Something with meat inside,” the prince sitting on the left suggested unsurely. “Vitya, what about you?

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, then brightened up, replying, “Something Mama Hiroko likes to cook! Or his favourite food works too.”

Beaming, Hiroko cheerily said, “You’re in luck because I love to cook Yuu-chan’s favourite food.”

Vitaly cheered, while Viktor looked at Yuuri in interest. “Your name is Yuu?”

“Mmm…no, that’s not really my real name. It’s a…” Yuuri scrunched his eyes in consternation, brightening up when Hiroko supplied, “Nickname.”

“Yeah! It’s my nickname. But you can call me Yuu if you want to.” The last of his words trailed off with a mumble, Yuuri’s eyes lowering and cheeks reddening in shy embarrassment.

“Yuu!” Viktor tested his name on his tongue. “It’s a cute name, I love it! You can call me Vitya, if you want to. I can’t wait to eat your favourite food.” A beatific smile ended his sentence, sending Yuuri’s heart fluttering.

At his side, Vitaly’s jaw dropped in shock. He knew that his brother was an extroverted child, moreso than himself. Always greeting people and passers-by with a large smile that showed off his teeth, treating people really kindly and generally being a good person, despite acting like an airhead sometimes. Yet, this was his first name witnessing his older brother giving permission to use his diminutive name so quickly, so casually, so easily. And young Vitaly was perplexed, the roots of calculative envy slowly taking root in his young heart.

Neither Viktor nor Yuuri noticed Vitaly’s sudden change in mood, a fast shift to a moody shell. Hiroko had returned to the kitchens earlier to start cooking, and Yuuri followed a few steps later. He was mesmerised by the elfish-looking prince with the heart-shaped smile, and he knew that the beast growing inside of him was also interestedly sniffing around.

Being the son of an inn owner meant that Yuuri couldn’t quite bring himself to slack off and sit with the princes during the peak lunch period. He was seen valiantly carrying trays loaded with drinks and food, carefully setting them down in front of the customers with a determined furrow of his brows, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out in his earnest concentration. Comprising mainly the middle-aged folks in the city of Adenite, the patrons would often coo at Yuuri, treating him to warm hugs and little sweets of gratitude.

Yuuri was basically a household celebrity, Viktor had thought with a grin, baby blue orbs captivated by the little kid trying his best. A feral part of him living in his baser instincts wanted to keep Yuuri for his own, despite Viktor not having presented at his age. His lineage was, however, strong, immensely so. And it was no question that the twins would present as alphas, just like their father and their ancestors.

Normally, Yuuri never carried the food trays as they were usually too packed with food and thus too heavy and dangerous for his tiny frame. But this time, Yuuri brought his favourite pork cutlet bowl, one at a time, placing them reverently in front of the princes. A large and honest smile lifted his cheeks, pearly whites peeking through his pink lips, eyes crinkling in proud accomplishment.

Beside him, the twins cheered in encouragement. Viktor even leaned over the table to briefly hug Yuuri, mussing his hair – _they were so soft and downy, and he smelled so good and warm_ , the crown prince couldn’t help but subtly sniff for more.

With a word of thanks, the twins dug in with gusto. When the first shovel of crispy fried pork cutlet, eggy sauce and piping hot rice hit their tongues, their taste buds exploded from the harmonious union. Vitaly had been stunned to silence, his senses scarily quiet and attuned to his olfactory and tasting regions, as though analysing each and every component of his meal. Viktor, on the other hand, cried out in delight, endlessly showering praises for the food made for the Gods, mouth forming into his signature heart-shaped smile.

Yuuri ducked his head bashfully at the litany of praises falling from Viktor’s lips like a waterfall, delighted that the twins, especially Viktor, loved his favourite dish. Hiroko had ambled out of the kitchens by that point, equally pleased that her meal had been given raving reviews by the princes. She had been worried for a bit, her homely affair a far cry from the exquisite cuisine prepared by the best chefs in the palace.

Hiroko fondly looked on at the interactions of the three, glad that her son had gotten out of his shell for a little while. He was now chattering on and on with an interested Viktor about the other delicious dishes his mother could cook up, the liveliest she had seen him ever since they rescued him a couple of days ago. Despite the stark differences in statuses, Hiroko cheekily grinned internally at the two.

From the corner of her eyes, she captured a look of consternation painting Vitaly’s face as he took in the light conversation between his brother and the inn owner’s son. It was his first time seeing his older twin take to someone with such casual, fluid ease, much less spend more than five minutes chattering away. Vitaly knew that Viktor had a short attention span, always searching for something new. But this situation completely baffled him, threw him off guard. And he didn’t know how to feel; how to react.

So Vitaly did what he did best in – observe. Listened in.

“Prince Vitaly, are you alright?” Hiroko asked concernedly, kneeling across the prince in a seiza. Startled, the prince took a second to put on his winning smile, deflecting her worry with a chirrup. Glancing at him, worry unabated, Hiroko deliberated, then eventually relenting to give him his own space. “Let me refill your tea, how about that?” When an animated word of thanks escaped Vitaly’s lips, Hiroko gracefully rose to bring out the tea pot from the kitchens, leaving him alone to stew in his thoughts.

The public smile never left Vitaly’s face after the sudden line of questioning from Hiroko put him on edge.

When their bellies were stuffed with an amazing meal of home-cooked food, the twins had stretched out languidly, blissfully. Yuuri had returned with another serving of hot tea, although this time a faint floral aroma wafted from the light green tea. “Jasmine green tea,” Yuuri supplied upon seeing Viktor’s questioning expression. “It helps with the digestion. But I drink it ‘cause it smells so good.”

“Thank you, Yuu!” Viktor chirped gratefully, with Vitaly following suit a few moments behind.

All too soon, the twins had to leave the compound after their extended stay – the other patrons had long left the dining area to return back to their daily business. Vitaly had long gone ahead to the reception lounge, after throwing a hasty thank you to a beaming Hiroko. Viktor had stood up, lips pouting in regret – he wanted to spend more time with his new friend, but he had promised Vitaly to explore the shops down the road.

Sensing his dilemma, Yuuri stuttered out a hesitant, “You can come over anytime, Your Highness.”

“Can I, really? I would love to, Yuu!” Viktor’s lips transformed into a beatific heart at the offer opened for him. “Mdm Katsuki, may I?”

Hiroko beamed at him, assuring Viktor that he and his twin could drop by anytime they wished. “But please, Your Highness, you can just call me Hiroko.”

Heart bursting in gratitude, Viktor bowed. “Thank you Mama Hiroko! You can call me Vitya, please! Yuu too!”

Viktor cheerfully departed from his self-dubbed favourite establishment, after saying his goodbyes to his lovely hosts. His heart had swelled, eyes turning starry and dopey, when Yuuri returned his greetings, and had bashfully – finally, called him “Vitya”.

Over the remaining year of freedom, Viktor visited Yuuri a handful of times, sometimes dragging Vitaly along when they craved Hiroko’s famous katsudon. Sometimes Yuuri wasn’t around to greet them, either sick or having classes with the ballet studio, often sending Viktor into a pout. Though most times, Yuuri would be there to receive them, swapping tales of their lives over a meal.

But when the twins turned thirteen, the visits abruptly stopped without warning. For a long while, Yuuri had been pacing the reception lounge in anticipation, though the longer the wait, the dimmer his expectations of the twins’ appearance. He’d then retreat to his room remorsefully, curling up and sobbing and wondering if he did something wrong.

Yuuri’s pining and sulking lasted for a year, for when he turned ten, all thoughts of the royals vanished from his mind after a particularly brutal kidnapping left him shivering in tatters. From that day on, Yuuri invested himself in self-defence, throwing his heart and soul and body into his training with Minako so that he could be better, stronger, faster.

Slowly, his memories of his eighth year of childish joy archived deep in the recesses of his mind, fading away as prominent, more pressing ones formed over time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 completely derailed from my original plans, so you guys have another glimpse into the past (it just flowed out of me, I had no control over my hands)
> 
> Also, it was getting too long, hence my decision to cut it here instead of dragging even further before the chapter turns into a monster. I'd rather create easy-to-read and digest chapters (Even though it's longer than usual oops)
> 
> Thank you for your kind patience, and I hope that this chapter had been good for you!
> 
>  **Important notice** : College is starting up again for me, with a potential internship on the side. Hence, chapter updates for this upcoming semester will take a while as well. I ask for your patience for each upcoming chapter, and am sorry if my lengthened periods between updates have caused upset and disappointment in you.
> 
> Meanwhile, if you'd like some light-hearted YOI fics, I recently posted them: [Hook, Line, Sinker - Sunk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11772357) and [Summer Heat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11661423).
> 
> Thank you for staying till the end!


	9. Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For You,_   
>  _Chu ♥_
> 
>  
> 
> He had failed, and now they paid the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : Mentions of non-consensual sex, i.e. rape (for the love of everything, _do not rape/do things without consent_ ), and light gore (no body parts are getting cut out, no worries)
> 
> This can be quite an emotionally draining chapter. Please take breaks (water breaks, pee breaks, food breaks, nap breaks) instead of forcing yourself to read it in one sitting if you can't handle it.
> 
> Are you mentally prepared? If yes, please proceed with caution:

“Katsuki~, let’s eat katsudon again tonight!”

If Yuuri had to hear that sing-song voice of the king for another second, no matter how lovely it tinkled in this dull and stifling compound, he was going to start carving out tongues and tonsils and throats just to _make it stop already_. His guts were squirming endlessly, torturously, deliciously whenever the king called for him with a throaty purr, that pine and white musk combination tickling the edges of his olfactory senses like a beckoning devil. Yuuri had to further increase his suppressant dosage when he shifted into the king’s guest house, a precaution he fervently hoped worked.

Yuuri was counting himself lucky that the king only dissolved into this childish version of his normally stern and stoic self within the walls of the guest house. His brother had been displaying a similar tendency whenever he visited, leaving Yuuri flustered when the twins ganged up on him out of the blue. Although he had gotten used to their antics, always fighting to stay in character instead of giving in to the strongest urge of rolling his eyes and replying sarcastically.

If the king and prince ever portrayed this flirty persona towards Yuuri while in the presence of the branch family, however, it would just be purely for entertainment purposes – to rile up their kinsmen as much as they could while getting a kick out of it, Yuuri was sure. He had to suppress a snicker at that thought, focussing his energy onto breading the seasoned chicken filets while minding the sizzling oil.

The past few days – and last few days in the compounds, had been oddly informative yet not to Yuuri. For one, he was able to get up close and personal with the king, memorizing his quirks and behaviour to a perfect T. On the other hand, since he was put alongside with the king’s own attendants, he was unable to sneak off to investigate the uneasy feeling he had of the compound, even at night. Whatever became of Klaridia and the rest of the hidden omegas was completely unknown to him, putting him even more on edge than usual.

The clock was ticking down, and when the sun rises later, the king and his retinue would be starting their journey back to the castle. Nothing had been amiss with the branch family, and the visit stayed purely diplomatic and neutral; a visit between family members who spoke in riddles and tongues, and watched their backs at every moment with a sharp, knowing gleam. Each word and nod were deliberate and measured, even their expressions were chess pieces to be utilized on the board. And frankly speaking, Yuuri enjoyed the uncanny, cunning interaction whenever he was privy to them; picking up the subtlest of expressions, reading behind multitudes of lines to grasp the core essence of each sentence – a skill that he continuously honed and sharpened for his profession. The only one who hated these interactions was young Yuri, who often sat in with a blank or dour expression as his protective mask.

“Katsudon, time to go,” a gruff Yuri grumbled. He walked out of his room with a small carry-on, leaving Yuuri to check the armoires and drawers for a final time. Yuuri couldn’t help but sigh in resignation at his new nickname, construed after the many requests by the king for the dish.

With a forlorn look hastily thrown in the direction of that discrete black house, tucked away in the corner of the compound, Yuuri boarded his designated carriage. A swift, murmured prayer for a smooth journey, Yuuri resigned himself to the long journey back to where his mission would continue.

 

* * *

 

Muffled cries shook his core, jarring him from his prayers. A fervent plea to the Gods to take him away from this never-ending darkness. Whenever he opened his eyes, all he could see was a blurred handle, shrouded in inky darkness. The occasional grey outline when a sliver of light seeped into the room. When he stretched his arms out, all he could feel were smooth walls surrounding him. He could stretch his legs out comfortably - the only time to bless his slight stature, but most times, he would hug his legs and curl up.

It was so cold. So lonely. And so utterly terrifying.

Because he could hear everything. All the heavy thumps and cries and shrieks and screams of desperate begging, even though the walls were thick and dampened the sounds well. But he could hear, and he was scared of making even the smallest peep. He feared that his own doors would open - they hadn’t except for the very first time eons ago, back when he was barely conscious.

They came in, and his arm was pricked. Then they left.

Days and nights passed without his knowledge; he couldn’t remember how long he spent in this small, enclosed space. All he knew was that he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what happened. And he was forgetting something important, a fact that itched at the back of his mind, refusing to surface no matter how hard he scratched at it.

He shivered; a violent shudder that wrecked his unclothed body.

It was so cold.

His body was too hot. Way too hot.

He pressed himself closer to the metallic walls, hoping to gain some relief to soothe the heat raging through his body. A disembodied sigh echoed within the small space. Was that from himself?

It didn’t matter anymore. The wall was cold against his naked skin and felt so good. That’s all he could think of, all that he was conscious of. Anything else didn’t matter as long as he stopped feeling like an overheated volcano.

Heavy lids drooped as he was lulled to a slow, effortless sleep.

It was dark and comforting, and he was safe, as long as the door never opened.

 

* * *

 

‘ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ’, Yuuri cursed without abandon. Every vitriolic expletive he knew dripped from his lips, at odds with the countless prayers that flowed from him. Yuuri had foregone stealth in favour for speed, muscles straining as his leather boots hurtled him across the capital towards the edge of the woods where the Keep’s barn was sequestered.

He sprinted across every shortcut he knew – shortcuts that ran through ominous alleyways where the unmentionables roamed free; shortcuts that had him scaling up and darting across roof shingles with feline grace.

Yuuri knew that he was probably breaking one of the basic rules in the Assassin’s Keep, but he didn’t care a single bit. He couldn’t think beyond the madness and anger that stifled his thoughts and stole his breath and sent him spiralling towards horrified dread. He had barely been able to choke out a command for Yuri and Otabek to bring the note back to Lilia before he made a desperate dash to equip himself, then bolting out from the palace and towards where the horses awaited.

Every movement was calculated, every stride designed for maximum efficiency.

By the time Yuuri reached the barns, and effectively scaring the stablehands when his bone-white mask dissolved into existence without warning, he was puffing out hot breaths from the exertion, muscles twitching with restless energy. He had unsheathed a dagger, twirling it with excess energy then sliding it back to place when his proud stallion, Kairos, trotted towards him with a soft whinny.

He heaved himself onto the tall, black stallion with practiced ease, urging him into a canter, leaving the stablehand with a curt nod of gratitude.

As though sensing the unnerving, anxious energy buzzing through Yuuri’s veins, and the sense of urgency he had unintentionally exuded, the stallion broke into a fast gallop, hooves thudding as the pair streaked through the forest, guided only by the lingering stench of fear and telling scent of pomegranates that stained the undergrowth.

‘ _That fool_ ’, Yuuri snarled behind his mask. If a single hair was damaged, Yuuri would flay the skin off the perpetrators, consequences be damned. The air around him turned frigid, darkened with malicious bloodlust, his mind abruptly silenced into abject clarity with this new, tunnelled focus. A cold-blooded weapon honed and sharpened with icy rage and purpose.

 

_Katsuki,_

_Going Home Once Next Gardening Starts_

_New Energetic Kitten Awaits Tenderly_

_Hour Old Runt Seems Excited_

_Will Order Oat Dessert Separately_

_And Layer On Nectarine Elderberry_

_For You,_

_Chu_ ♥

 

* * *

 

A loud shuffle drew him out from his slumber, an insistent but muffled cry that couldn’t quite form properly in his mind, all muddied as though he was underwater. Cool hands clutched onto his fevered skin, dragging him out of the heat he had sunk into. A cold wet sensation at his skin wiped away the dirt and grime and heat clogging his pores, bringing about a delicious shudder that ran through his body and pulling out a moan of comfort from his parched throat.

The cold rag disappeared, earning a moue of disappointment from the barely conscious, prostrate omega, before the cool hands returned to caress his face.

“Phichit, open your eyes please,” a soft, worried voice lilted. The scent of ripe oranges and jasmine wafted around him, gently coaxing him into consciousness.

The tanned omega groaned with lethargy, slowly blinking his eyes open as his heat-addled mind tried to process his current circumstance. “Guang Hong? Is that you?” Phichit croaked out, voice hoarse after days of low water intake. An unmistakable, shy affirmation from his petite omega friend sent him reeling, his mind finally clearing in unblessed relief. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” apologised Phichit, when he came to terms with their predicament.

“Don’t be, you couldn’t help it,” Guang Hong murmured kindly, concern for his friend temporarily overpowering the nauseating fear that gripped him ever since he was captured, blindfolded and then tossed into a cramped space for days.

“Did they touch you? Do anything to you?” Phichit rasped, warm brown eyes raking over Guang Hong appraisingly, straining his eyes against the scant slivers of light that filtered in through the partially ajar door. “I’ll kill them if they did.” The negative shake from the latter had Phichit releasing his tension in a long breath, his rising hackles cooling.

“You’re still in heat, Phichit,” Guang Hong informed him worriedly, although he was touched by his friend’s comforting words. “I doubt that you can do much moving, much less killing.”

Phichit groaned, all too aware of the distant throb in his nether regions and the temporarily reigned-in heat in his mind. A sentient thing that threatened to engulf his senses soon enough, seeing how his omega was prowling on the edge of sanity. Judging his internal state, his heat – definitely a forced one as his next scheduled heat wasn’t for another four months, had started a few hours ago when he coerced himself to sleep.

“How long has it been, do you know?” Phichit inquired lightly, shifting to prop himself up against the wall. A small groan slipped from his lips when his joints creaked and popped, loosening the muscles that had tensed up in his uncomfortable position.

“I can’t really remember; maybe a week for me?” The petite, pale omega answered with furrowed brows.

“One week?” gasped Phichit in bewilderment. “And they didn’t…?”

“No; no, they didn’t.” Guang Hong was firm, plush lips tightening into a strict, straight line. His composure cracked when he took in Phichit’s look of surprise, the fear that he had forcefully kept at bay now seeping in through the fractures. “I… I am a virgin.”

Guang Hong’s shy confession didn’t shock Phichit; he had come to that conclusion a couple of seconds before it came out. It was the only reason why he would still be untouched, still be coherent instead of being reduced to his primal side by this point.

Omegas were rare enough, much less male omegas – they would fetch a heftier price than their female counterparts in the underground markets. But an untouched, unmarked male omega – they were the prize of the century, a tantalizing being that lured the greedy ones, seducing them to give up their lands just to able to afford the cost of owning them. A truth that sellers exploited shamelessly, the monetary incentive an allure too strong for them to even lay a finger on such a prized commodity.

Phichit was inwardly relieved – Guang Hong would still remain safe and untainted as long as he stayed pure. Their captors wouldn’t dare touch him, intentionally or otherwise, lest they leave a mark on his flawless, porcelain skin. At least their attention would be transferred to him instead. He could do it, be Guang Hong’s shield for as long as he could, until backup arrived.

Sudden movement from the corner of his eyes had Phichit hauling Guang Hong behind him, the latter emitting a squeak of surprise from the swift motion. The tan omega stood between his friend and the hulking alpha that entered the open door, uncaring of his nakedness as he crouched defensively, eyeing the approaching alpha suspiciously.

“Stand down, omega,” intoned the tall, broad alpha. His face was angular and handsome, but cold and apathetic, nondescript black hair contrasting nicely with piercing blue eyes. Seeing Phichit’s refusal to budge, a slight frown marred his blank expression as he repeated his orders while releasing his brand of musky pheromones.

The scent of raw alpha sent Phichit to his knees, coaxing his heat to life. He couldn’t get a single breath in without taking in the heady scent. Phichit’s vision blurred, and the next thing he knew, he was trembling with unbridled desire and need, and thrown across the alpha’s shoulders like a ragdoll to be carried out of that dark and lonely room.

 

* * *

 

Up ahead where the trees cleared revealed a modest house surrounded by a small garden and a dainty picket fence. It gave off a homely air that sang stories of a warm family and laughing children. And Yuuri would have believed it if not for the location of the property, too close to the woods and the prowling animals within, or the eerie silence blanketing the utterly pitch black house.

Yuuri and his steadfast stallion had galloped hard and fast for the past day and night, following the fading scents of pomegranates and oranges like a hound. Their breaks had been minimal, only stopping to catch their breaths and gulp down water and sustenance before taking off yet again through the maze-like woods.

They had reached the edge of the forest just as the sun reached its peak, forcing Yuuri to stay hidden in the inky darkness of the woods as he readjusted his plans. Yuuri gently nudged the stallion inwards, back to a small clearing with a brook running through it.

Yuuri then doubled back, scaling up a sturdy tree that gave him an aerial view of the forest and the foreboding house, and patiently waited for night to emerge from her slumber.

 

* * *

 

Phichit was on fire, yet again, his heat returning with a sledgehammer to his head, buckling his knees as he gasped for air to soothe his parched lungs. He had been unceremoniously thrown into a larger room, knees scraping against the rough rug, the edges of a clean, white bed looming over his prone frame. Guang Hong had been dragged along as well, deposited into a corner where a definitive clink of metal on metal echoed.

Forcibly turning his head, Phichit’s brown orbs widened in horror as he watched the alpha tear off the other omega’s clothes, leaving him shivering in the nude. His arms were extended upwards, body barely supported by the ceiling chains. Tears streamed down Guang Hong’s face quietly, nose quickly turning a bright red as he valiantly fought off the rising need to sob and wail.

Phichit shakily got onto his feet, the single-minded goal of helping Guang Hong driving him forward. He paid no heed to the two alphas in the room, their existence diminished to a low buzz in his mind. Until he was abruptly shoved onto the large bed, his light body bouncing atop the white sheets.

The unmistakable musk of alpha assaulted his senses, the putrid stench causing him to gag in reflex. Phichit whipped his slender arms out in alarm, a quick whiplash that was easily caught and deflected by large hands. Spidery fingers trailed down his naked skin, the calluses on the palms rubbing against his over-sensitized body. Without warning, a long, dry digit forced its way up his clenching rim, his own slick aiding the passage of the unwanted intrusion.

A gasp of outrage was pulled from Phichit as he tried to squirm away, though it was quickly bitten off into a pleasured moan when the raven-haired alpha curled his finger just so, digging harshly into his prostate without remorse. White light burned Phichit’s retinas as the finger continued to tease the gland, stroking the hot flames of desire that sizzled across his nerves until Phichit writhed uncontrollably on the slick-stained sheets, head thrown back with a long, unsatisfied moan.

Across the room, Guang Hong trembled in shock and fear, his virginal body reacting to the strong musk and Phichit’s own arousing mix of pomegranates and rainwater that inundated his senses. With every breath he took, he inhaled in that intoxicating concoction of aroused alpha and omega in the throes of sexual passion. His own omega roused to attention with a defiant roar as the telltale burn of an incoming heat lit up his nerves. He was already hard and bordering on painful, ass dripping with slick and the smell of sweet mandarin oranges mingled tantalizing with the present scents.

The second brunette alpha, who had manhandled Guang Hong earlier into the chains, stalked towards the helpless omega and grabbed his weeping member, pulling and tugging as his other hand freely roamed over Guang Hong’s shivering frame.

“No, no, please no,” Guang Hong begged piteously. The mantra took up the remainder of his mental faculties as he fought against the arousal that flared through him with every stroke. The alpha paid no heed to Guang Hong’s pleas, tweaking and pulling his pert nipples relentlessly, smearing the flowing pre-cum over his cock as he tugged and twisted and glided.

Within seconds, the two alphas – with their ever present apathetic mask, had the two omegas crying out in need and humiliation and fear.

It was when Guang Hong let loose a howl of unbridled anguish that had Phichit snapping into action. The haunting scream struck a chord in his omega, unleashing a torrent of protective instincts that overpowered the lust running rampant in his blood. The bloodlust in him ramping up in a sharp burst.

With a defiant snarl, Phichit grabbed the wrist of the hand that had been playing with his nipples, aiming for the soft flesh between thumb and index finger. He twisted quickly and cleanly, a jarring snap of bones that elicited a hiss of pain from the alpha but was never fully formed, as Phichit used the alpha’s muscular forearm as leverage, abdominal muscles clenching as he swung his foot forward to connect directly with the alpha’s unprotected throat.

The force of the blow had the alpha staggering off the bed, wheezing through his abused larynx. Without giving him the chance to recover, Phichit slammed the alpha’s chin upwards with an open palm, causing the alpha to almost accidentally bite off his tongue when his teeth smashed together.

Phichit avoided beefy hands that tried to grab his lithe form, dancing around the alpha and sliding free a dagger that had been buckled at the back of the alpha’s belt. The enraged alpha hissed and spun around, only to have his tendons and ligaments slashed through cleanly when Phichit ducked low and swiped across the top of his knees.

When the alpha buckled to the floor, Phichit lunged once more. But the alpha was quick, using his palm to deflect Phichit’s fatal blow. He had used the momentum to grab hold of Phichit’s outstretched forearm, forcibly pulling it upwards while the other palm pushed down on the omega’s shoulder. Under the weight of the alpha, Phichit’s joint gave, the pop of an unhinged socket tearing a snarl of pain from him.

When the alpha released his hold on him, Phichit retaliated with a swift but powerful back kick, rotating his hips to lend force to the connecting blow. Transferring the dagger, which he had stubbornly held on to despite the pain, to his other uninjured side, Phichit struck like a viper, his body weight driving the dagger down onto the back of the alpha’s exposed neck and through the vertebrae, the tip of it pushing free from the other end, then harshly pulling it out with a squelch. The alpha gurgled with shock and pain, body eventually slumping into a motionless heap, blood soaking the dark rug underneath.

Grimly satisfied with his handiwork, Phichit whipped around to face his next adversary. A wicked smile graced his lips, transforming his handsome face into something terrifyingly beautiful. A veneer to mask the stunned worry that had leapt to his throat when he saw the remaining alpha pressing a sharp knife to a shivering Guang Hong’s throat. The latter was commendable, barely making a sound despite the danger he was in.

“Be careful with that, it’s sharp,” Phichit’s omega purred low and dark. His eyes were hooded, the barest fleck of honey gold signifying his omega’s surging into the surface. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally let your hand slip and knick the skin of a virgin omega, don’t you? That’d be a very very costly mistake for you.”

A short, warning growl rumbled from the alpha as he released bursts of aggressive pheromones in a pitiful attempt to ward off the advancing omega. When Phichit continued to step nearer the duo, the alpha reflexively pressed the edge of his knife harder against Guang Hong’s throat. The sharp edge of it barely slicing through the porcelain skin, yet tiny beads of bright red blood started to bloom along the shallow cut.

Phichit’s smirk widened further, his pupils fully blown – chaotic vengeance and protectiveness raging in the gold-flecked brown orbs. The alpha barely heard the breathy warning of “ _Your mistake_ ” before a bloody dagger was flung towards him. In a panic, he swung his arm out to deflect the incoming dagger, only to realize his erroneous move a second too late.

Phichit latched on the alpha’s hand with a firm grip, twisting until the knife fell out of unresponsive fingers and into Phichit’s awaiting palm. He swung his left hand upwards and across the alpha’s arm, pushing his body forward. With a graceful turn of his hips and shoulders, the knife followed in an arc, slicing through skin and muscles. The laceration across the alpha’s neck was deep and true, and he followed his comrade into the afterlife as the spark of life slowly bled out from his unseeing eyes.

Phichit’s omega rumbled in satisfaction, the immediate threat now gone. A whistling breath had Phichit softening his demeanour, the bloodlust fading from his system as he hurriedly unchained Guang Hong. He had to fish through the guard’s pocket, procuring a ring of keys that jangled noisily as he fitted each possible key into the padlock.

When the lock finally opened, Guang Hong sagged into Phichit’s arms with a relieved sob. Though he had quickly jumped back when Phichit hissed in pain as the adrenaline slowly dissipated. Gesturing to Guang Hong, Phichit instructed in a clipped tone, “Push as hard as you can against my shoulder in one motion.”

Guang Hong was admittedly afraid of potentially worsening Phichit’s injury. The latter remained patient and kind, reassuring the scared omega with low words of encouragement. He had adjusted Guang Hong’s hands on his shoulder, before nodding to signal for him to start. Phichit braced himself against the wall, pushing against his throbbing shoulder as he waited for Guang Hong to move.

With a deep, shaky breath and a grim line that cut across his lips, Guang Hong rammed forward unhesitatingly, using his body weight to follow through and lend strength just like how Phichit had instructed. A loud pop rang out alongside Phichit’s moan of pain as his joint was relocated back.

Guang Hong fretted over a pale Phichit as the latter fought over the nausea and ache that swept over him and blurred his vision. A deafening minute passed before the worst of it passed, enabling Phichit to straighten and move with a fraction of his usual grace.

The two omegas hurriedly raided the room for spare cloths to cover their nudity, fashioning haphazard togas with the help of the fallen alphas’ daggers. Phichit secured a belt across his mid-section before doing the same for Guang Hong, then equipping him with a sheathed dagger. Phichit had taken a handful of daggers for himself, securing them through the loops and pockets in the belt.

“Don’t hesitate to use it.” Phichit had murmured to a shaken Guang Hong when he first let the brunette hold on to the weighty dagger. Guang Hong had trembled, his eyes focusing in and out when he laid eyes on the weapon. “It’s your life or theirs. Always choose yours.”

“Phichit, why – how –” Guang Hong stuttered, only for Phichit to reply with a forlorn smile. “Not now, later. I promise.”

When Guang Hong finally steadied his nerves, Phichit placed his finger on his lips in a shushing motion, and the two crept out in silent tandem.

 

* * *

 

All Yuuri could see was a sea of red that washed his vision, a bloody filter that tinted the greys of the stark room. His omega was howling incessantly within him, alongside the cold, calculative silence his rational side had sunk into. The icy metallic cuffs digging into his wrists with every laboured scream from his best friend.

He had failed.

He had failed, and now they paid the price.        

 

* * *

 

The sun had barely lowered beneath the horizon when audible thumps and shuffling from within the house reached Yuuri. He jerked upright atop his perch, eyes narrowing in concentration, right hand straying to one of his sheathed daggers attached to his bandolier.

A muffled yell, distant yet familiar, spurred Yuuri into action. Keeping to the slowly emerging shadows, he snuck towards the back of the house with feline quiet, heart steady. Crouching low until he was beneath the windowsill, he silently slipped a dagger free as he crept towards the shut door. Yuuri pressed down on the handle and pushed, though the door refused to budge, as expected. He repressed the urge to swear, for there wasn’t even a lock available for him to pick.

Risking his exposure, Yuuri peered through the windows to be greeted with ominous darkness that the interior exuded. As he evaluated his options, a horrified shriek tore through the room and rattled the glass window. Throwing caution to the wind, Yuuri leapt and grabbed onto the head jamb, tightening his muscles and swinging himself forward. The momentum caused the window to shatter under the force of his sturdy leg muscles, and Yuuri let himself roll into the room in a smooth motion.

Quickly straightening, Yuuri sprinted towards the source of the continuous stream of vitriolic expletives, half-praying that it would be loud enough to obscure his loud entry. He found himself swearing internally when doors slammed open with a harsh clamour, the musk of unmistakable, angry alpha and bitterness of petrified omegas wafting through the still air and igniting a furious fire within his omega.

A snarl, similar to the one that slipped from his lips, reverberated through the rooms, the telltale slap of skin on skin indicating a vicious spar happening in the open, lit room beyond.

“Keep your filthy hands away from him!” The enraged yell was familiar, righteous fury and protectiveness rolled into one.

The urgent need to burst into the room to aid his fellow assassin and omega-kin warred with his habits of staying absolutely concealed and observing for his opponent's’ weakness. A survival skill ingrained within him after years of Minako’s and Lilia’s brutal yet effective teachings. Tamping down the urge to rush into the brightly lit room, Yuuri snuck a peek into the situation happening a mere ten feet away from his position.

Phichit was scuffling with three other brawny men, at least twice his size. They were alpha and trained fighters, their movements controlled and efficient as they tried to subdue the flighty omega. There were two downed men, dead, judging from the copious amount of slick blood beneath the prone bodies.

Yuuri caught a glimpse of a petrified Guang Hong pressing against the far wall, hands clasping a metallic dagger in a death grip. The poor child was shaking badly, his dilated pupils rapidly tracking Phichit’s movements.

It was a grim outlook for the two of them, for Phichit’s strength was flagging, his renowned agility turning more and more sluggish by the minute.

Yuuri steadied himself, calmed his mind and quieted his spitting omega, and kept his rising bloodlust at bay. With a steely glare, he threw his dagger. It flew straight and true, right into the vulnerable neck of a black-haired alpha. He collapsed onto the floor with a nasty gurgle, hands futilely grasping at the handle of the deeply-embedded dagger.

The remaining alphas sucked in shocked breaths at the unprecedented attack. One of them was stunned from the display of sudden, swift death and barely able to deflect Phichit’s vicious side-kick. Efforts renewed, the brunette alpha grunted against the assault and pushed Phichit away. The other raven-haired alpha spun to face Yuuri, who had materialized behind him with another unsheathed dagger, cinnamon eyes flecked with hardened gold specks.

The two pairs of alpha-omega fighters danced a deadly tango, each calculated strike parried with equally precise blows. Eyes of ruthless ferocity never once letting up on their intensity as they traded jarring blows for blows.

Guang Hong’s startled cry echoed when Phichit stumbled, his opponent immediately exploiting the advantage with a sadistic smile. A particularly vicious punch to his stomach had Phichit doubled over and sputtering. An axe kick followed, slamming the injured omega straight to the carpeted floor with a loud thump and harsh crack of cartilage. A booted foot pressed down on Phichit’s prostrate form, a heavy weight that increased its pressure with every struggle that Phichit put up to escape, threatening to snap the exposed spine.

Yuuri was barely able to flick his eyes over to his defenceless friend, for his opponent rained punches and strikes without any breaks. He retaliated in kind, ducking under outstretched arms and swiping his sharp blade across exposed areas. The cuts were frustratingly shallow, little beads of blood welling up, for the alpha was quick-footed, attacking and then drawing back his limbs in fluid motions.

The alpha flipped and twirled, the impact of his butterfly kick forcing Yuuri to relinquish his dagger in reflex. Grasping the errant dagger in midair, the alpha flung it towards where Guang Hong stood trembling. Yuuri was barely able to palm free another dagger, hurling it towards the thrown dagger, deflecting it before they made contact with the defenceless omega.

Guang Hong was utterly terrified, his unique scent of oranges souring with bitter fear that coursed rampantly through him. His blood thrummed anxiously, rushing in his ears in a deafening roar, drowning out the clashing blades. All he could see were the pools of spilt lifeblood, soaking through the white rug, staining it a deep maroon.

He wouldn’t move – couldn’t help his friend, even though Phichit struggled on the rug, profanities and threats spewing irately. The brunette alpha paid no heed, merely crouching down and pressing his weight against Phichit, making a clean cut down the back of Phichit’s shirt with a sharp blade – a lover’s caress as cool metallic tip stroked exposed, tanned skin; hypnotizing and arousing.

The other fighter – Guang Hong wasn’t cognitively able to properly categorize him in his current state, only that he was wearing all-black with a cloth mask that covered his lower face, and was wickedly skilled. Guang Hong was sending prayers to the Gods, grateful that the new fighter wasn’t an assailant, at least not yet.

When a sharp gleam headed towards him, he stood rooted to the ground, body unresponsive despite the incessant shrieking from his omega to _just move already_. The breath which he had unconsciously held in left his lungs in one giant expulsion, when a second blade whistled through the air and knocked the fatal weapon off its trajectory.

Guang Hong could feel the strength leave his legs, turning them soft and numb. He crashed to his knees, the fall cushioned somewhat by the rug underneath him. His breathing turned shaky; his scent gland releasing copious amount of bitter-sour pheromones with each pulse of his heart.

The sudden increase in the intensity of pheromones had Yuuri’s and Phichit’s omegas snapping wildly, the intrinsic motivation and sheer need to protect their own driving the omegas crazy with bloodlust. Yuuri doubled the ferocity of his blows, driving the alpha into a corner as his attacks renewed with vigour. Phichit managed to buck his assailant off, scrambling to find purchase, only to have the heel of a leather boot connect with his ribs, sending him back sprawling against the wall with a groan.

Yuuri lunged with a growl, his twin blades clashing wildly with the alpha’s short sword. He then twisted, blades catching the light with a deadly gleam as they arced gracefully towards the brunette alpha. The latter jerked back in shock, letting the daggers embed into the wall just above Phichit with a dull thud. Fighting off his protesting ribs, Phichit’s lips curled into a wicked, dangerous smile, yanking the weapons out, defiant gaze daring the alpha to make his move.

As the two remained at an impasse, the other pair was still sparring in earnest. Yuuri had resorted to basic hand to hand techniques, lean frame dodging his opponent with a dancer’s grace, kicks and jabs landing with the finesse and strength of a fighter.

“Who are you?” The raven alpha asked after deflecting a kick aimed at his head, deep gravelly voice cutting through the tense silence. Yuuri, predictably, remained taciturn, his apathetic veneer firmly in place. It didn’t waver, not even when the alpha admitted, “You fight like one of us.”

“You’re an omega too, aren’t you?” The brunette was perceptive, despite Yuuri making sure that his trademark scent didn’t leak out from all the aggression that was flooding his system. “The way you reacted to him – ”, a tilt of his head towards Guang Hong, “ – was the same as him. Your eyes too, even though I have never heard of omegas having golden flakes in their eyes.”

“He’s a bloody competent fighter too,” the raven pointed out nonchalantly, as though the idea of a trained omega was commonplace. “Not that many can fend off that brute, even when tired and injured.”

Another bout of terse silence cloaked the room, neither Yuuri nor Phichit willing to divulge their secret.

“Stay silent for all you want,” the raven-haired alpha picked up, easily dismissing the silence with a few simple words. “Doesn’t change the fact that _they_ are already on the way.”

Yuuri whipped out daggers and flung them straight at the blasé alpha, forcing him to deflect the incoming projectiles with a laboured grunt. Taking advantage of the brief blind spot he’d created, Yuuri sidestepped the alpha, forcing him to his knees with two well-placed blows to the ribs and spine. Cold metal kissed the skin of the alpha’s neck, a morbid caress from a dangerous lover.

“ _Who?_ ” Yuuri rasped out, a malevolent storm barely suppressed within that one word.

The alpha kept stubbornly silent, even when Yuuri resorted to light physical torture to coax an answer out of him. The flow and ebb of time, and the sinister foreboding from the warning, pressed against Yuuri. Deeming the alpha worthless, Yuuri made a swift, clean slash, rupturing his carotid artery mercilessly. He collapsed with a surprised gurgle, the heavy thud drowning out the sharp hiss of inhale by the last alpha remaining in the room.

The brunette reacted with a punishing speed, backing away and instead, encroaching deftly into Guang Hong’s personal space, disarming him with ease. He locked both of the omega’s arms behind his torso with an iron-grip, using Guang Hong as his personal human shield, risking the wrath of two omegas on overdrive.

“Let him go,” Yuuri and Phichit snarled warningly. The latter was still slumped against the wall, his lithe body exhausted from the heat and potential rape and fight he had been subjected to within the past day or two. Yet his chocolate orbs were glaring at the alpha, the golden flecks within gleaming with unadulterated fire and rage. However, it wasn’t his burning gaze that had the alpha stiffening in wariness, blue orbs narrowing, sharp and alert.

It was the other omega – he was sure of his secondary gender, even though it hadn’t been explicitly confirmed. The other omega was barely injured – winded yes, but no telltale signs of a debilitating injury. And the way he prowled was beautiful and terrifying, a predator out on his hunt, the power carefully restrained in those corded muscles. The same fire burning within his cinnamon orbs that had similar golden specks, though it was an ice-cold burn that threatened to plunge him into a frosty abyss.

He felt his tense muscles minutely sag in relief when audible thuds reverberated through the room, taking vicious glee in the look of horror on the tanned omega when they realized the new situation befalling upon them.

The reinforcements – four alphas, all concealed behind masks and hoods, burst into the room. They easily subdued Phichit; he was in no condition to fend off two trained fighters in his condition, surrendering to the sweet darkness when the blunt end of a weapon connected.

Yuuri, on the other hand, was trying to valiantly hold off the assailants, body twisting and turning, blades clashing with determination. Even so, he was easily overpowered when all four of the alphas turned their attention on him. Prized assassin of The Keeps or not, the adrenaline could only keep him afloat for that short period of time.

It took three of the alphas to pin him down – releasing their pheromones didn’t work, neither did exposing him to the Alpha Command to stand down. The trembling omega in his arms was the only one who was affected by the Command, eyes turning glassy, the shaky tremors ceasing until he became nothing more than a limp puppet in his arms.

The cleanup was quick and efficient – an alpha staying behind to supervise as the house and its dead occupants burned. The other alphas hauled the three unconscious omegas (one semi-conscious), and two other omegas who had been locked in their rooms, to another safe-house. Where they would be held and watched over until they were handed over to their new owners.

 

* * *

 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” A large gloved hand gripped Yuuri’s jaw with punishing strength, forcibly tearing his gaze away from a fevered, choking Phichit getting pounded into mercilessly by still-cloaked alpha.

Yuuri glared hatefully up into white-bone mask, a sliver of bright blue peeking through the slits, the makings of a low, enraged growl rumbling from him.

“You’re Katsuki, aren’t you? Attendant to Yuri Plisetsky?” The alpha was positively purring with sadistic, delightful realization. “Does he even know who you really are? The twins?”

Yuuri smirked darkly in reply. “Do you think I’d still be here if they realized?”

An equally dark chuckle from the alpha resounded. “You sly fox; I’d pay to watch you get pitted against the twins any day.”

“And not Plisetsky?”

The alpha clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. “If that brat can’t figure out your true intentions despite having lived with you for months, he’s worthless and doesn’t deserve to be called a disciple of The North.”

“But the twins can?” Yuuri prodded casually.

“Oh darling,” purred the alpha. “The twins fight dirty. They’d definitely know.”

Yuuri had to fight past the reflexive freezing of his facial muscles, instead turning his eyes hooded, pasting a bland, noncommittal smile on his lips. “And you’d know that.” He could feel the wolfish grin from behind the ivory mask. The alpha didn’t deign a response, merely dug his fingers into Yuuri’s jaw.

“I’d enjoy breaking you. I hope that you’ll scream as prettily as your friend.”

The blasé comment ripped a snarl of contempt and rage from Yuuri’s omega, he himself fighting back to remain as outwardly collected as possible. The alpha seemed to have seen the conflict warring in his cinnamon eyes, letting go of Yuuri with dark laughter.

He left the room; left Yuuri to watch on in horror and resentment as Phichit screamed and screamed and screamed.

 

* * *

 

The masked alpha stayed true to his words.

Once Phichit’s torturous rape was over, the omega had collapsed on the cold, hard floor in a boneless heap. His voice had gone coarse and scratchy.

“Chulanont, how are you feeling?” Yuuri strained against his cuffs, the short chains attaching him to the wall holding him back from checking on his friend.

“The only sex I’m going to ever have is with ice cubes up my ass,” Phichit groaned. “Want to have ice cube sex with me?” A small chuckle slipped from Yuuri’s lips as his best friend tried to lighten the atmosphere despite hurting all over.

The cheer shattered when the same masked alpha strode back into the room, earning himself sudden glares and warning growls from the two chained omegas. He went directly to Yuuri, crouching and brazenly palmed his naked manhood.

Yuuri scoffed quietly when the alpha completely failed to get him erect despite a few minutes of stroking and fluffing. The alpha, seemingly catching the short sound of contempt, stared into Yuuri’s eyes.

“If that’s how you want to play.”

That was the only warning Yuuri got before he was turned and slammed against the cool wall. His legs were forcibly spread apart before a dry digit was shoved unceremoniously up his equally dry hole. Yuuri bucked in pain while Phichit gave a weak snarl as he saw his best friend squirming.

“Get off him, you bastard,” Phichit growled weakly from his prone position.

“No can do,” the insufferable alpha replied. “Equal punishment for both.” Another long finger joined the first, barely able to slide into the tight entrance.

Yuuri hissed condescendingly, “If this is how you have sex, I’m not surprised that you have to resort to using sex slaves instead of having a willing partner.”

“But then, I can be able to focus on my own pleasure,” the alpha murmured back, the edges of dark pleasure roughening his words.

“You –” Yuuri’s retort was bitten off abruptly when a blunt, rounded head shoved into the protesting ring of muscles despite the lack of preparation. His legs trembled from the intrusion. He could feel his inner walls tearing and splitting, the barest hint of slick minimally aiding the unwanted, burning stretch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and so good,” the alpha panted. His fingers dug painfully into Yuuri’s hips, purple bruises starting to form on the omega’s pale skin.

Yuuri couldn’t formulate a reply, too busy fighting off the shuddering pain and his rampaging omega that kept howling non-stop. Distressed pheromones leaked through his iron-control over his glands, spurring Phichit to exhaustedly try to claw his way through his own cuffs to help Yuuri.

The alpha paid no heed to either omegas, already overwhelmingly intoxicated from the glorious heat that enveloped him. His hips were snapping erratically, a full body shudder when he came while buried hilt deep in Yuuri.

Yuuri winced as the viscous liquid stung his cuts, his abused hole burning in pain despite the cool air when the alpha pulled out completely, letting his semen mar the insides of Yuuri, a white taint smeared with red blood that flowed languidly down his thighs.

“Thank you for the meal,” the alpha crooned darkly into the shell of Yuuri’s ear. “You were _delectable_.”

With a final squeeze of Yuuri’s buttocks, the alpha tidied up and left the room in long, languid strides. The door clicked shut with ominous finality.

Unable to hold in his omega any longer, Yuuri let loose a low, long snarl of bitter antipathy. His insides hurt, and his entrance burned hotly from humiliation and pain.

He hadn’t been forced into this situation for close to a decade. Not since he started his training with Minako. The very fact that he had been so easily subdued and manhandled had him glowering indignantly and shamefully. The reality of Phichit having suffered the same fate rubbed salt to his wounds.

“Yuuri, are you holding up?” Gentle, kind Phichit always knew when to pull Yuuri out of his downward spiral.

Yuuri chuckled mirthlessly. “Once we get back, we’re going to have that ice cube sex.”

Phichit grinned fiercely, hints of gold appearing in his slitted eyes. “Before that, we’re going to give them hell.”

 

* * *

 

The two chained omegas had tried to find little trinkets that could have helped them pick the locks to their cuffs. Though, their captors had been carefully thorough in not bringing in potential weapons, leaving the room completely bare.

They had been subjected to a couple more rounds of brutal treatment – sometimes sexual rape, other times getting their skin nicked and cut and slashed as they were tortured for information. And every time the alphas always left the room with either sexual gratification or nothing at all. The two omegas kept their mouth stubbornly sealed.

Though Yuuri and Phichit had learned; if they subtly pleasured the alphas during one of the sexual sessions, either through releasing arousing pheromones or warm slick, the alphas sometimes unconsciously dropped nuggets of information.

According to the snippets of information they managed to glean, Guang Hong and the other omegas were safe, or as safe as they could be. Instead, Yuuri and Phichit took the brunt of the sexual advances of the guards, a means of torture meant to break them slowly over time, while the rest remained relatively unscathed.

They also found out that the other omegas were intended to be shifted sometime soon, after the masked alpha – he had dubbed Yuuri as his favourite ever since that day, had a bout of loosened tongue while in the throes of passion.

“Too bad I wouldn’t be able to have a taste of that virgin omega before he moves. He must be exquisite,” the lascivious purr rattled Yuuri, though he maintained his composure. “Ah, but worry not, moy solnyshko; you’re still my favourite fuck.”

Despite not fully comprehending the foreign language, Yuuri instinctively understood it to be a demented form of endearment bestowed upon him by the alpha. He bore through the steady thrusts with apathy, unwilling to provide any unnecessary ammunition to the alpha.

All the while, Phichit and Yuuri had remained soft and limp throughout the multiple ordeals. A testament to the intensity of disgust they abhorrence they held towards the unwarranted advances.

Despite being assassins trained to withstand hours and days of torture, the mental exhaustion weighed heavily on the two omegas. Yuuri had even entertained the dark thoughts that they wouldn’t be rescued, not anytime soon. And they wouldn’t be able to free themselves from the cuffs, short of dislocating their fingers and wriggling free.

 

* * *

 

Days blurred for the two of them. Their bodies now sporting multitudes of cuts, bruises, some broken bones, coupled with dried blood crusting on their naked skins. Perspiration and leftover slick and semen left behind a slimy, grimy feel that had Phichit gagging whenever he mentioned it. Yuuri didn’t fare any better; he was aching and hurting all over after all the ministrations he’d gone through to even be bothered about the state of his body, each one more brutal than the last.

It had been a while since the other omegas left the current location, where Yuuri and Phichit had been forcibly held back for some nefarious purpose. Likely to prolong the fruitless attempt to get them to divulge and spill their secrets. The talkative alpha, still insufferably masked, had told them of the omegas' departure, as though baiting them. But Yuuri and Phichit didn’t bite, merely offered a bored look of condescension.

They were both undergoing the same routine – freezing cold water thrown at them and stinging their open wounds, when yells and clamouring from overhead seeped into their chambers.

“Might want to check that out,” Yuuri deadpanned.

“We will still be sitting here when you get back, no worries at all,” Phichit intoned sarcastically.

The two alphas in charge of the session gave each other a quick glance, then left the room briskly. In the split second that the door was opened, harsh clangs of metal on metal filtered in, signifying a surprise battle happening outside.

Spurred by the fighting going on, Yuuri and Phichit tried to wriggle free from their chains, taking advantage of the distraction that had called their captors away. Despite their fingers and hands being slick from the water, they still couldn’t slide out of the cuffs.

Gritting his teeth desperately, Yuuri slammed his hand against the unforgiving wall, earning himself a muted thrum of pain through his numb fingers. A sudden thought jumped into Yuuri’s mind, a risky manoeuvre that could potentially free them or jeopardise them.

Phichit understood Yuuri well enough to know that whenever that golden gleam entered his eyes, he would be executing something momentously brilliant yet recklessly stupid at the same time. And when he glimpsed that in Yuuri, he could barely choke out his friend’s name in warning before Yuuri slammed his hands against the wall, again and again.

“Yuuri,” Phichit hissed in worry, accidentally letting his real name slip. “ _Katsuki Yuuri¸ what do you think you are doing you colossal idiot?!_ ”

Yuuri merely threw him a warning glare for the slip, before returning to his current task, biting his lips when the dulled pain started to burn through the numb nerves.

 When Yuuri banged his finger joints at just the right angle, they popped out of their sockets under the unrelenting force and pressure. Smirking in triumphant pride, Yuuri slipped his hands free of the cuff, hissing lowly when the disjointed fingers brushed against the metal.

Bracing his injured left hand against the wall, Yuuri pushed the dislocated fingers back with the heel of his right palm, grimacing as his nerves burned from the inflicted abuse. He repeated the same motion for his right hand, flexing his fingers, feeling the joints creak and protest against the extended torture. It was a pity that there wasn’t a bucket of freezing water left to soothe the burning ache.

“You are one crazy fucker,” Phichit breathed out, partly in awe and partly in ill-concealed reprimand.

“Your favourite fucker,” Yuuri returned without missing a beat. He was standing in front of a sitting Phichit, examining the cuff.

“Balls off my face,” Phichit rebutted, diverting his gaze away from Yuuri’s naked family jewels. “The only assets I’m willing to have in my face is your superior ass.”

Yuuri huffed lightly in reply, moving away in search of possible tools to remove the cuffs. However, he hadn’t even scoured the whole chamber – it was utterly bare anyway, as usual, before the doors were kicked in abruptly with a loud bang.

Startled, Yuuri grabbed a nearby bucket and crouched protectively in front of Phichit, body tensing and curling in anticipation of a struggle.

To his relief, a familiar figure, despite being concealed beneath hood and ebony mask, appeared through the doorway.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” the unmistakeable voice of Christophe rang out, threatening to buckle Yuuri’s legs in sweet relief. Christophe hurried over, intent to check Yuuri’s injuries but the latter obstinately refused, instead pleading with his friend to take care of Phichit.

Another cloaked figure entered, hastening to unclip the cloak from her shoulders and draping them around Yuuri’s exposed body.

With a click, after a few seconds of picking the lock, Phichit sagged forward into Christophe’s open arms in gratitude. Silently, Christophe offered his cloak to Phichit as well.

The two alphas had hissed irately when they first laid eyes on their comrades – all bruised and beaten, the signs of physical and sexual torture evident on their skins, like a proud, twisted marking left behind by their captors to be showcased.

“Time to go,” Christophe murmured soothingly, gently carrying an exhausted, passed out Phichit. Yuuri stubborn refused, only compromising by leaning his weight against the other alpha and limped out of the chamber that reeked of sweat and sex and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear all, once again I would like to thank you for waiting for chapter 9! It took quite a while because I became dissatisfied with my writing style and generally slow pacing in terms of plot progression. I was even contemplating deleting the whole chapter and redoing it but it was already done, and I wasn't about to subject you guys to an unexpected, extended waiting time. If I ever feel like changing this chapter, I'll make sure to let you guys know!
> 
> But this brings me to my main point:
> 
> I would like to know your opinions, as readers, on the type of chapters you'd like/prefer to read in the future. Mainly, whether you want this story to stay in its current pacing, or to be much faster (but will sacrifice a little on detailed description of each scene). So, if you could head down to the link below to do the short 2 minute survey, I would be extremely grateful! 
> 
> **  
> **  
> [POLL](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdrcViI88iyMcuP1xO7TtPEKzgIsnx0DOAbNqyLCRI1cPaTBQ/viewform)  
>     
> Once again, thank you for your patience! ❤


	10. Instigator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **MAJOR ALERT**  
>  This chapter is _not pretty_. It's cruel and barbaric for a reason (further explained in A/N below), where the whole idea of non-consensual rape culminates into something ugly and festering.  
>  If you feel uncomfortable reading it (it's in the 2nd half of the chapter), please skip it until the final portion (marked out by dividers).

“Are you sure you can return for duty?” Yurio scowled, obstinately refusing to admit his worries when his two attendants were found missing. Yuuri merely tossed him a smirk, eyes dancing in mirth, as though daring the alpha to question his competence as a top-notch assassin.

Yuuri had just returned to the palace a week after his rescue. His wounds had healed quickly, and he was slowly growing sick of being grounded at home by both his kind mother and his mentor, Minako, so that he could have ample time to recover from the ordeal. She had been rightfully furious with the reckless stunt he'd pulled, snapping out threats to ban him from future missions. Whereas Hiroko had employed the worst mental torture on her own son – Lilia should hire her immediately for her effective torture method. She hadn't admonished him, not once since he was dropped off at the back doors, pallid pallor and minutely reeking of alpha in spite of the furious scrubbing of his skin when he washed up at the lake.

In fact, Hiroko had carefully drawn a bath for him, then dressed his wounds with practiced, motherly care. Before sending him to sleep, she had kissed his cheeks and whispered a heartfelt prayer of gratitude that he was back safe. A heavy leaden weight had settled deep within him, the guilt and remorse of implicating his mother gnawing him alive. Hence, despite the injuries he had sustained, Yuuri was infinitely glad to be finally out of the suffocating confines of his room. Before leaving his home, he hugged his mother fiercely, a whispered fervent promise that he'd stay safe.

On the other hand, Phichit was due to return a few days later, his own recovery taking longer after being exposed to the heat reactants. He was kept under supervision at the Keeps, being waited upon by the other younger trainees. They had formed a conga line of baby alphas, overly eager to succour to his needs once his distressed omega scent wafted through the compound at the dead of the night. It had been a terribly adorable sight when Yuuri visited his bedridden friend being pampered by soon-to-be formally recognized, deadly assassins-to-be.

Guang Hong had been put up in a safehouse in the outskirts of the town in order to aid his recuperation. He had undergone a tremendous shock to his mental, emotional and physical state, and Lilia had deemed it necessary for him to be placed in a calming environment as quickly as possible. Whether he returned to the palace to continue working there depended on his willpower and mental fortitude. Leo had turned crestfallen upon hearing the last news – he had only been told that his precious friend would be resting in an omega care house, nothing more.

As for Yurio, the young alpha had been busy tying up loose ends on his side, fabricating elaborate reasons for the absence of his two attendants when his cousin questioned their absence. He had been truthful with the events surrounding Phichit, earning believable gasps of shock and outrage from the twins.

He then spun a careful tale of how the raven omega had despaired tremendously upon discovering the fate of his best friend, almost spiralling into a drop. In his best interest, Yurio had ordered him to return home until he recovered from the shock. And now, with Katsuki almost totally recovered, he had returned to the palace to continue his servitude to his alpha master, just in time to hear the news of Chulanont’s rescue and imminent return to the palace.

“I have fully recovered, all thanks to your benevolence in allowing me to recuperate in a timely manner before I had completely dropped.” Yuuri bowed, tilting his head back to shoot a teasing smirk at the flustered alpha.

Yurio snarled something incomprehensible back at an amused Yuuri, stomping out of his suite with his sword. Otabek, ever his silent, loyal shadow followed behind with much more calm, leaving Yuuri alone to finish his chores. When the heavy doors clicked shut behind him, his smirk melted off, a bone-weary sigh dragging through his lips.

It had barely been a few hours, yet he had already been accosted by almost all the servants working in the palace upon setting foot through the gates. Every guard and stable lad, every gardener and seamstress having pounced on him, cooing their worries and relief for his wellbeing. Despite their warm wishes, Yuuri felt drained from all the social interaction forced upon him. He had quickly fled to Yurio’s suite for some peace and quiet, being treated to an entertaining sight of a taken aback Yurio who hadn’t fully expected his return.

What he did had been foolish – utterly vapid and impetuous. It had been sheer, dumb luck for him to escape relatively unscathed without sustaining permanent incapacitation or worse, killed. Getting raped, getting tortured, those were expected on hindsight. In their current line of missions, chances of omega assassins, rare as they were, being apprehended and forced to sexually submit was still relatively high despite the intensive training they had gone through. That was the predominant reason why the Keep trained omegas but never sent them on official missions, barring Yuuri and Phichit.

And both Phichit and Yuuri had gotten the short end of the stick this time round, having to suffer through endless rounds of physical and sexual torture. Yuuri’s every waking moment was spent berating himself, his omega an unwavering presence that held him back when his thoughts sank far too deep, when his emotions burned and his remorse festered a deep, ugly wound in him.

Most of the alphas who had their way with him escaped with a swift, merciless death when they were ambushed by the Keep. A handful had been brought back, Yuuri heard from Phichit during one of his visits, and undergoing Minako’s brand of torment. Partly to extract information from them, but primarily as an act of satisfying vengeance on the omegas’ behalf upon hearing the ordeal they had gone through. Phichit had even whispered conspiratorially that one of the alphas had been thoroughly conditioned by Minako that he trembled and moaned prayers whenever he caught a whiff of her scent.

Yuuri had been vindictively pleased by the tale of the alpha’s pathetic, visceral reaction, and even offered to assist in the interrogation. Only for Lilia and Minako to completely refuse him, citing that he shouldn’t be further involved with his captors lest his omega ran wild and bloodthirsty. Yuuri knew that it was an act of concern for him, to let him be able to put the incident behind him and let himself heal properly. Yet he couldn’t help but pout at Phichit, eliciting warm laughter from his close friend at his denied revenge.

With a wrangled promise from Phichit to keep him updated of his status, and a curt order from Lilia to continue his mission, Yuuri left the Keep.

* * *

The next visit to the Keep was much sooner than anticipated, barely a day after Phichit had been given the all clear by the resident physician. The whole lot of them had gathered in Lilia’s massive office room, some lounging across the leather chaise, light empty words filling the silence, eyes gleaming with sharp clarity. All of them involved in the recent case one way or another.

The gathered alphas had insistently pushed Yuuri and Phichit to sit on the plush armrests, they themselves forming a loose, protective semicircle around the seated omegas. Christophe reclined beside Yuuri, a comforting hand tapping on his thigh. A red headed, spirited alpha leaned over the backrest, slinging her arms around both omegas.

“My darling Sara patched you both up rather beautifully, I would say,” Mila crooned praises for her absent mate. Even though she was one of the youngest assassin to be indoctrinated, she had been dispatched for the retrieval mission due to its immense urgent nature. She was there to witness the aftermath of the abhorrent purgatory, and supported a stubbornly limping Yuuri back to Adenite.

“She was simply wonderful,” Phichit sang. “Please give my thanks to her once more, Mila! You’re lucky to have her as your mate.” Yuuri murmured a similar consensus, grateful to the two females for saving and healing them.

“Mon cher, please for the love of my heart, do not attempt that ever again,” Christophe lightly admonished his long-time friend. He had been worried sick when he was abruptly summoned to the Keeps in the dead of the night, all his bleariness vanishing and leaving behind a cold chill when Lilia briefed them.

His own alpha had lurked near the surface throughout the whole mission, constantly baying for blood. Christophe could sense that the other alphas on the mission were the same; Yuuri and Phichit were theirs, were part of their pack and under their protection, and they were more than ready to exact bloodshed to keep them safe.

But when they reached the concealed warehouse, they were dumbfounded and horrified by the intensity of lingering, putrid fear that stained the very air. They split – half to enter the compound, the other half to track down their quarry. It was their prerogative to cleanly and thoroughly carry out their mission. Lilia had spared no effort nor men under her jurisdiction to ensure the success of this mission. It was their greatest lead yet on the ever elusive omega trafficking case, not to mention her two prized omegas had been ensnared deep within the clutches. They were hers, and hers alone until they wished otherwise.

The barest hint of omegan sex pheromones and rusty blood assaulted their heightened senses upon barging into the warehouse, the familiarity of the sweet musk sending them into a blood-frenzied overdrive. Growls and snarls echoed alongside metallic clashes of swords on swords. They were merciless, intent on death and destruction. It was only when Christophe grimly reminded them of their objective that they spared the remaining few alphas who had come rushing up a set of hidden stairwells.

The cold, leaden chill doused over Christophe when he kicked open the door. Despite mentally bracing himself for all the possible scenarios he could find his two precious friends in, he was still woefully underprepared to take in the red welts crisscrossing Yuuri’s and Phichit’s delicate skins. The scent of sex and blood and arousal was the most potent in the small, dank room, and he almost reeled back from the sheer intensity of it.

Thankfully, the aggressive pheromones from Yuuri snapped him out of the red haze, and that young Mila was there to aid him in securing the two weakened omegas.

And now they were back together, wounds faintly scabbed over, awaiting Lilia’s and Minako’s presence. The sharp, purposeful tell-tale clicks of Lilia’s heels hushed the room into silence, the dozen or so gathered assassins tracking her every move with glinting, feral eyes. Minako followed her like a silent wraith.

“Minako will brief you on what she had found from the two captured alphas,” Lilia intoned with a steely voice. “Good job on bringing them back in one relatively whole piece.” She tossed a knowing look at Christophe, and gave a graceful nod to those who had participated in the mission.

Minako cleared her throat and began, “We have ascertained the identities of the two alphas. I have been told that Yuuri, you had made contact with one of them briefly before.” Yuuri cocked his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as he ran through all his interactions he had with any noticeable alphas. Shaking his head in a negative reply, Minako pursed her lips before stalking towards the door and swinging it open.

Even with her slight, svelte frame, she hauled in a rope-bound captive and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground with casual ease. Two other cloaked figures strode in after her at a more sedate pace, revealing themselves to be Yurio and Otabek once the doors shut.

Yurio bent to rip off the mask to reveal a pair of familiar, glowering blue eyes framed by stringy silver-blond locks matted with blood. Lips curling smugly, Yurio crooned with wicked delight, “Hello cousin.”

* * *

 “Prince Vitaly, I will be taking my leave today. I leave the palace in your hands.”

“Rest assured, brother. Do what you must with our kinsmen. I pray that this is a setup, but if they have flouted the law so brazenly…” Prince Vitaly trailed off, an unwillingness to speak the words that would condemn his blood-kin.

The king was much less forgiving, his normally passive cool blue gaze froze into twin glaciers, hard and unyielding. “If they did, _I will_ _punish them according to the law_.”

The king’s command weighed heavily, silently, in the throne room. His regal figure sat atop the gilded seat of authority, unmoving like a beautiful, wicked creature carved out from the purest marble. His twin knelt on one knee on the cold, white tiles, silver head bowed in deference as he accepted the decree, lips curling into a malicious smirk.

The devil and its advocate.

* * *

“Did you hear?”

“About Guang Hong?”

“Poor thing, he must have been terrified.”

“Chulanont too, wasn’t he also involved?”

“Katsuki was so aggrieved by it that he had to stay home.”

“I can’t imagine what –” “Shh – they’re coming round this corner.”

The hushed whispers had increased with a vengeance ever since Phichit returned to the palace – hale and hearty but still bundled with a couple of bandages over healing scars. Rumours had run wild in the gossip mill, doggedly trailing after both Phichit and Yuuri. The looks of remorse and pity of the handmaidens and stable boys whenever the pair stumbled into low murmurings, causing them to cut off abruptly, guiltily.

“The king is leaving the palace in a few days’ time.”

“I heard that he would be away for at least two weeks, if not more.”

“I wonder why?”

“Didn’t you hear? Apparently, a member of the branch family was implicated in the recent case of omega sex trafficking.”

“You’re lying! I can’t believe it. The branch family?”

“That’s why the king is leaving to personally carry out investigations the slander against the family name.”

“What a heinous act by the Nikiforovs; it sounds impossible.”

“Acting against the newly formed edict by the king?”

“They must be furious, for the king to even leave his seat.”

“Is it even safe here?”

“I’m scared, I hope it doesn’t happen to me.”

“You’re a beta, not an omega.”

“You’ll be safe. We’ll be safe.”

_‘Because we aren’t omegas.’_

* * *

 “We are omegas,” The dark croon was low and unfamiliar. A gloved hand ran through the coarse silver locks, gripping the strands near their roots and _tugged_ , baring the pale neck in forced submission. “And you,” the near-silent murmur rang deafeningly loud in the still room. “You fucked with the wrong omegas.”

Another pair of gloved hands ran tantalizing up and down the bound captive, one caressing the nervously bobbing adam’s apple, black gloves a stark contrast against the pale skin. The other hand rubbing teasing circles around the straining crotch, a warning pressure pressed onto the slowly hardening member.

“Think of it as us returning the favour,” Phichit purred forebodingly, his breath ghosting across the alpha’s pale lips.

The rest of the gathered alphas stood in a loose circle, watching the blatant power play with varying degree of nonchalance. The younger ones smirked, bodies tilting forward in anticipation. The older ones were more laidback, languidly observing the display with hooded eyes. Yurio had initially gagged when Phichit and Yuuri prowled towards their quarry, but became riveted when the sweet spicy scent of arousal permeated the closed room, unable to tear his gaze from the pair as they slowly, but surely, stripped the bound alpha bare.

“Scream for us, darling.”

* * *

Coarse, guttural moans rasped in sheer humiliation, splotches of red staining his body under the scrutiny of pitiless alpha eyes. They never moved, still as statues, watching with unnerving focus as they let the two predators consume him. His cerulean eyes burned with angry shame, his throat raw from the endless yells and groans over the past few days.

Cool metal pressed against his hot skin, taking away the feverish heat that had slowly built as the two omegas mercilessly continued their ministrations. His own alpha was reacting strongly to the heady waft of aroused omega pheromones inundating him, roaring for release. His head ached, his nerves were aflame with lust and desire, and his member throbbed painfully, uncomfortably.

The gloves had come off at one hazy point in time, blunt nails gouging into his scarred skin, the rough finger pads teasing his pebbled nipples. Two pairs of talented hands eliciting a sweet symphony from his alpha.

The cold metal returned, caressing his nape, his thighs. Thin and sharp, barely pricking his skin as they were dragged up and down, drawing circles that made him shudder in pleasure. The heat deep in his gut continued to accumulate and rise, his breathing running ragged as he chased for completion.

As though sensing the imminent wave of pleasure that was about to erupt, a unyielding hand clamped around the base of his painfully erect cock harshly, denying him the rush of gratification that he desperately sought with each buck of his hips. A pathetic whine grated his ears, his rationality slowly submitting to his primitive alpha.

The torturous attention resumed, even as fingers remained firmly curled around him. He was lost with each cold stroke, nails biting and digging to draw blood. He whimpered when warm hands disappeared, an ominous click behind him barely registering in his lust-addled mind. His hips bucked in shock when cool liquid touched his overheated cock, and he shivered as fingers swiped the dripping, viscous liquid and smeared it over his balls, dragging lower and lower to press against his perineum.

A strangled objection scarcely made it past his lips before he howled, over and over again, when a blunt intrusion pushed past his rim, past the resisting rings of muscles before settling firmly deep in him. He desperately squirmed, struggling against the thick coils of rope that bound him, trying to dislodge the foreign object that invaded his body.

“Take it out,” he snarled through pained tears. “Take it out!”

“As you wish,” throaty chuckles bubbled from the two amused omegas as they conceded to his request.

He felt it being pulled out, his muscles tensing when it was almost leaving the rim. Then it slammed back in unforgivingly. A choked scream was pulled from him as a punishing rhythm was set. He writhed and bucked, accidentally causing the intrusion to brush against his prostrate and ripping a loud, embarrassing moan. His hips jerked erratically, half trying to dislodge the object, half chasing the fleeting pleasure.

“I think we found it,” Phichit announced with a delighted laugh. His traitorous muscles burned a pleasant ache, desperately clenching the thick object and sucking it in, inviting it to press against the gem that hid within its folds. A cacophony of moans and shrieks tumbled from the alpha’s lips incessantly, each a higher pitch than the last.

A calloused finger rubbed his scent gland on his exposed nape, a burst of unadulterated arousal coming forth. Cool pinpricks replaced the rough finger, before sinking deep into the sensitive gland without warning. The amalgamation of pleasure-pain erupted, singeing his nerves. He involuntarily shut his eyes as a pure white flash streaked across his retinas, his body spasming under the onslaught. The pressure built and built, turning his breath thin and reedy as he keened piteously from the overstimulation.

Then the dam exploded.

It was a hard and fast eruption, the viscid cum staining his abdomen, his chest, some errant sprays coating his jaws. The orgasm, however pleasurable, was endless and relentless, his nerves and glands howling in excruciating agony as he was continued to be fucked through unceasingly, the thick needles twisting and sliding with wicked delight.

He slumped, finally, long after his orgasm turned dry. His cock now laid limp and bright red, its seeds wrung out until every single drop coated his exhausted body. Feverish blue eyes cooled, glassy from prolonged torment, stinging with tears. His orifices had been fucked raw, scratchy and coarse from the abuse.

“Apologies that we couldn’t shove _ten sharp knives up your ass_ ,” a dark croon caressed the shell of his ears, sending a wave of goosebumps to wreck his body. “Though you seemed to enjoy being ravished by omegas with an alpha-sized dick and a couple of needles.”

“We’ll play with you another day,” a second sultry voice added. “We’ll tear you apart piece by piece, until you’re begging for us not to stop.”

The proud head drooped in defeat, under the heavy gaze of impassive eyes.

Humiliation.

His pride as an alpha – shattered into indistinguishable pieces.

He had been utterly ruined by omegas, who sunk their claws deep into his soul, grip unrelenting until they enacted their due compensation.

And his alpha never let him forget.

* * *

 

 “One of the twins will be called to clean up the mess made by the branch family, once the package has been received. It’s too big of a scandal to sweep it under the rug,” Yurio uttered with solid conviction to Lilia.

The commotion had died down after Romanov had been hauled out of the study room. All of the gathered assassins hadn’t even batted an eyelid at the grotesque, barbaric method of punishment. Yurio had looked away in disgust, willing himself to ignore the harsh moans and sickening squelches that echoed. He had heard of similar things happening in the Northern Keep, but never witnessed punishment of this nature, especially by the hands of – what society assumed to be gentle – omegas.

The primal savagery he thought alphas harboured deep within them couldn’t compare to the inherent darkness curling within the omegas. Cultivated and exacerbated by the nature of their occupation – each assassin had their own darkness, tamed through countless hours of excruciating training.

Lilia’s piercing green orbs bored into Yuri’s emerald ones, silent contemplation weighing the air between them.

“We have set the kindle, but that’s not sufficient.” Her no-nonsense stare froze Yuri in place, his retort swallowed with pressed lips. “We need a certain _something_ to stoke the flames; make it a beacon that no one can ignore.”

The study fell into another hush of silence. The air barely stirring. The quiet before the tempest of a storm.

“If I may, Madam,” Yuuri sliced through the contemplative silence with grace. There was barely a hint of cruel malice or exhaustion lining his features to evidence the deplorable torture he had partaken in mere minutes ago. Only the cool assassin’s gaze remained on his unruffled face.

With a nod of assent from the leader of the assassins, Yuuri continued with growing surety. “We can utilise the gossip mill; the servants, the stablehands, the guards. In the palace, out in the streets from Citrine to Amber. By noon the day after, it’ll be an inferno that cannot be ignored. The fire with flames stoked so thoroughly that it will threaten to consume the whole town, much less the whole family.

“Wildfire spreads faster and deadlier than any other messengers. One as incriminating as this would be carried through the gutters and streets without hesitation. To reform the foundations of the people’s belief in their king.

“Let the winds sing. Let the walls talk. Let the news echo from corner to corner.

“The family put the laws in place. Let them uphold those laws, or risk pulling the noose tighter around their necks.”

By the time Yuuri finished his spiel, Lilia and Minako sported small smirks that tugged at the corners of their mouth. Approval radiating from the two leading women lightened the atmosphere, hushed whispers immediately rising as the other assassins loosened their breaths and conferred with their neighbours.

With steepled fingers, Lilia’s gaze met Yuuri’s confident ones, nodding once in assent. An order was barked out at her gathered assassins; to complete their mission in haste when their window of opportunity was still open.

“Let your words be heard through the shadows. Let it seep through every crook and every crack. Let it breathe through the cobbled streets. Let it be known from corner to corner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. [World Building Post](https://kiryouya.tumblr.com/post/166102287193/wallflower-world-building)
> 
> 2\. I apologise for the month-long wait and the shorter than usual chapter. Academics and personal issues suddenly got dumped onto me without warning and I couldn't afford that much time to write.  
> The tone for the subsequent chapters are to be different from this, that's why I decided to cut this chapter at this point despite the lower word count.
> 
> 3\. This is the last chapter featuring non-con/dubious consensus (according to my plot line)
> 
> 4\. Reason for putting rape as a central theme in this fiction, especially the first half/two-thirds (a summary):  
> I wanted to delve into the psychological, emotional aspects of rape. The impacts it has on both the victim and the abuser. It's not meant to be pretty, and not meant to be glorified in any way. It's meant to humiliate and dominate; to coerce. It's not a wound that can be easily healed. The scars left on the mind, the heart and the soul - these damage the psyche. But those with higher psychological resilience? They are the ones who can better survive. To use their experiences to shape who they are, and who they are going to be.  
> Although Yuuri's character in this fic has been darkened, due more to his repeated experiences of getting kidnapped and raped as a child, and the subsequent venture into his path as an assassin. I cannot say that what he did was (morally) right or wrong. All I can say is that he is still surviving, and didn't let his experiences break him into merely a shell of his potential self.
> 
>  
> 
> That's it folks! Thank you for reading this chapter and bearing with the long wait!


	11. Seducer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When veneers melt under heat, the underlying truth speaks

“Thank you for accommodating to my selfish request with such haste. I hope the journey fared well for you, lovely Yuuri.”

“Your Highness, thank you for inviting me to your castle despite your busy schedule. I am delighted and honoured by the grace and kindness you have bestowed onto one such as myself.”

“Please, dispense with the formalities. Let us not be restricted by such stuffy decorum. I invited you here to spend an enjoyable time together, not for you to bow to me at every possible second.” The chuckle accompanying his words loosened the tension from Yuuri’s rigid posture.

“It would be improper to drop it completely,” Yuuri demurred with a small, secret smile. The half-crooked tilt of his lips sent the prince’s heart beating wildly. At least he had half a mind to contain his strangled groan, to not scare his precious guest off. Barely able to control his lips from uttering a lewd innuendo.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind it,” a half-dreamy confession slipped from a dazed prince. His heart lurched in another staccato rhythm when a soft giggle from Yuuri tinkled in the spacious drawing room.

“We shall see what we can do about that, Prince,” Yuuri compromised, warm auburn eyes crinkling in mirth as he caught the prince off guard with his reply, the latter flushing a slight red as he valiantly tried to cover it with a cough. He daintily sipped at his floral tea, letting out small moans of appreciative delight as he bit into the spread of elegant cakes laid on the low table.

Prince Vitaly uncrossed his legs, stretching them out on the thick woollen rug, lightly reclining against the plush cushion. He, too, nursed a similar cup of tea, the warmth of it seeping through the porcelain and into his bones.

The pair were relaxing in one of the smaller drawing rooms, the light wooden panelling, burgundy rug and luxurious aubergine pillows scattered throughout made the whole atmosphere cosier. A compact fireplace crackled merrily in the far corner, the warmth from the flames dissipating in loving waves. The French windows spanning from the high ceiling to the floor took up a whole side of the room, opened just slightly so to let the cold air flowing in. Snow was falling gently, unhurried and peaceful, into one of the many beautifully-kept palace gardens which the room overlooked.

It had been barely a couple of days when Yuuri, friend of the Giacometti’s, had been cordially invited to the palace at Prince Vitaly’s behest, the invitation sealed within heavy cream papers and glistening wax. Yet Yuuri had replied with haste, sending his fastest pigeon to accept the offer and reached the city of Adenite in a matter of days.

To that, Prince Vitaly was grateful and showered his esteemed guest with the warmest hospitality he could conjure. Despite Yuuri’s shy claims of looking less than proper – less than befitting of a guest of the royal family, upon his arrival in the lush entrance garden, Prince Vitaly had waved off his concerns with a confident handshake and a warm press of lips on his gloved hands in greeting.

Truth be told, the moment when Yuuri stepped down from his coach, the prince had immediately been sent into a star-struck stupor at the beauty gracing the palace grounds. Fair skin bundled within layers of thick, downy coats; a rich navy woollen scarf loosely wrapped around the gorgeous neck, which Yuuri pulled up slightly to cover his face when a sudden blast of chilly northern wind ripped through. The unforgiving wind nipped at his cheeks until they flushed a rosy pink.

An angel standing in front of him, once again, after months upon dreary months following the fateful Harvest Festival.

An angel who would stay by his side for the next few days, comfortably laughing over cups of warm tea and fragrant pastries, according to plan.

* * *

 

It was unfair, Yuuri decided with annoyance, torn between an unexpected, uncontrollable exasperation and yearning.

Unfair for the prince to laugh so carefreely. Unfair for him to look so devastatingly handsome even in a simple forest green tunic, beautifully setting his bright cerulean eyes, the thin silver band on his finger catching the setting sun.

He had been with the prince for months yet still was caught off guard by the sheer beauty and grace the prince carried himself with. Especially in moments as intimate as this.

Upon receiving the gilded invitation, the thick piece of parchment having gone through a winding loop of messengers to arrive at the Keep, Yuuri worked in tandem with Phichit and Christophe to weave a story to explain the impending disappearance of Katsuki from the palace.

It may not have been an invitation from the king himself, but a chance to enter the palace from a new perspective was still a chance. And securing the Crown Prince’s favour would immensely boost their efforts to unearth the secrets of the royal family.

And so, Katsuki formally submitted a leave of absence, citing his need to prepare for his upcoming heat, leaving Phichit as the sole attendant to Yuri Plisetsky for the next month.

After securing his route to the palace, Yuuri made his way to the palace in haste, arriving at the smaller receiving garden in a respectable coach. He was mildly surprised to see the prince seated in the gazebo, when the doors swung open. Yuuri swore that Prince Vitaly’s ears perked up when their eyes met, his relaxed countenance immediately bounced forward to properly receive Yuuri down from the coach like a well-mannered gentleman.

In all his months of observation and interacting with the prince, Yuuri was aware of the polite façade that the King and the Prince wore on a regular basis. The pleasant masks that never cracked under the endless political pressure from the royal advisors. Their politeness would sometimes extend towards friends of the royal family, perhaps an odd occasion or two towards an outstanding servant.

But he never expected for the Crown Prince to sacrifice his time, to personally invite and welcome some no-name villager, whose only connection into the royal house was through the Giacometti family. A masked stranger who never offered more than his name after meeting only once at a ball.

Granted, he had most likely made a strong impression during the waltzes – more accidental than purposeful, when his omega lost control for those scant few minutes. Like an instinctual call. The prince fared no better, his alpha surging to the surface and darkened his baby blue orbs into something more feral; assessing and _hungry_.

It seemed almost too easy to lure the prince in.

And that raised Yuuri’s hackles, putting him even more on edge than when he had to deal with the abhorrent Romanov.

A situation which he didn’t feel fully in control of. The reins barely tangible, slipping through his fingers teasingly. Mockingly.

Unaware of the internal turmoil brewing behind Yuuri’s tranquil countenance, the prince chattered on with cheer. Bright blue eyes glinting and sparkling with joy and wonder, posture open as he warmly traded questions and answers with a politely reserved Yuuri.

The omega, who slumbered from the endless stream of ingested herbs, stirred.

* * *

The first couple of days passed without much of a fanfare. The prince graciously allowing Yuuri to replenish his strength from his hurried journey.

They talked about almost anything and everything possible, from the trivial questions of favourite colours and to intense discussions about political affairs.

Yuuri found himself sharing his thoughts candidly, smug satisfaction crossing his heart when he surprised the prince with pieces of nuggets to lend new perspectives into their debates.

And dare he say it; he was genuinely enjoying the time spent with the prince. His duties often banished to a quiet corner in his mind, until every night when he returned to his bed chambers, the smile slipping off his lips as he changed.

As a trained, professional assassin and reconnaissance expert – one of the Keep’s best manipulator and honeypot, his edge was slowly dulling with more time he spent with the prince. When the royal had expressed his distress upon the casual comment by Yuuri over the recent rumours whispered amongst the streets, the former had asked after Yuuri’s wellbeing, if he felt comfortable being in the palace, instead of immediately defending the royal palace’s reputation.

Yuuri had unconsciously, and quickly, replied to reassure the slowly panicking prince that he was perfectly fine. Despite that, the prince still wore a look of concern throughout the day, until Yuuri suggested for a walk in the gardens.

The prince was everything, yet nothing, Yuuri expected. Presumed, from his days of meeting the prince as a servant to Yuri Plisetsky. The same dramatic flair was inherently present, as well as the genuine softer, curious side to the prince which had not appeared in all the days Yuuri had been in the palace. The small, private smiles; the heart-shaped smiles; the soft look that crept into his cerulean orbs – all directed wholly towards Yuuri. The endless questions that were akin to a barrage of bullets, gently probing Yuuri to share his views and experiences. Of what the people of Adenite, and of the neighbouring cities, faced – their joys and hardships; what they would like and need to better their lives.

Yuuri would catch the prince fading into some deep part of his mind as he processed Yuuri’s tales, thin lips moving silently, as though instantaneously generating ideas and policies that could be invented and implemented.

A prince who showed care and concern for his people.

The hidden kindness a twin to his outward ruthlessness.

* * *

 

Despite sneaking through the palace almost every night, Yuuri was still unable to find the evidence he needed to damn the royal family. He had raided almost every known room in the palace by now, including those in the private quarters. The only ones left were the suites leading to the twins’ personal chambers. The sheer number of guards posted in those places made it near impossible for Yuuri to enter without knocking all of them out.

And so Yuuri upped his scent, the sweet cherry blossoms lingering around him like a subtle mist, whenever he met the prince. Not too little, but not too much. Just enough for the sweetness to linger lightly, but not cloyingly.

It was getting harder for him to have such fine control over his scent and pheromones, now that he was abstaining from his daily herbs.

But if he wanted to seduce the prince, he would need all the tactics and skills he had harnessed over the years to break the iron-clad control the prince had over his alpha.

Yuuri poured his emotions into his words, his smiles and his gestures. Lips curling slightly so. Eyes darkening slightly so. Voice turning husky slightly so.

The subtle art of seduction, each nuanced action meant to lure the alpha in; readily, unconsciously.

* * *

 

By the fifth day, the prince’s ironclad control was wearing thin. The primal, instinctual reactions to Yuuri’s every action growing more and more obvious despite the unfailingly polite demeanour ingrained within him. The push and pull of an intricate mating dance of sorts, as the worlds of the two orbited around each other, lithely dancing into each other’s personal spaces. Teasingly. Then sidestepping, the lingering pheromones a seductive lure.

The sexual tension ramped up considerably, thankfully undetected by the beta servants who attended to the pair. Though, spitfire Yuri had, without a care for decorum, thoroughly gagged when he stepped foot into the drawing room. The angry snarl ripped from him elicited nothing more than a raised, patronising eyebrow from Yuuri which quickly vanished into something resembling concern.

Surprisingly, an unbidden growl from the prince rumbled very slightly at the intrusion, cerulean orbs darkening instinctively. Although he quickly regained composure, plastering on a flawless, if not tense, smiling façade. Yuuri cocked his head in mild surprise, a comfortable heat building within from his omega.

From then on, the younger alpha vowed to never step within a twenty-foot radius when the pair spent time with each other.

* * *

 

“If it is not presumptuous of me,” the prince began hesitatingly, on a fiercely cold winter afternoon. “Would you like to visit the hot pools with me?”

“The hot pools, Prince?” Yuuri parroted back with surprise. As an attendant, he knew about the hot pools situated deep in the belly of the palace. A place only accessible to the royal family; a place kept hushed to anyone outside the palace. As a guest, Yuuri would not be privy to the steaming baths.

“It is the royal’s private bathing chambers, of sorts. Hardly advertised to visiting dignitaries and the members of the public,” explained Prince Vitaly. “It’s not much, but it will give us warmth in this dreadfully freezing day.”

Yuuri demurred, “I cannot partake in the hot pools, if it is meant solely for the royal family. It would be disrespectful of me.” Internally, his omega warred with him, hissing at the wasted chance to properly seduce the alluring, perfect alpha _standing right there and offering to get naked together just for the sake of his mission_. Yuuri hissed back, warning his omega to not let hormones cloud both of their minds, snarling that he knew how to play the game of seduction.

True to his experience, the prince hastily reassured Yuuri that it would be perfectly fine and acceptable for him to invite a guest to the hot pools, so long as the guest vowed to keep mum. What took Yuuri off guard, however, was the softening of oceanic blue orbs and the smallest, genuine smile that bloomed on the prince’s face. Transforming the already-handsome features into a devastatingly captivating man. The sight of the, dare he say it, enamoured alpha made his breath hitch, and his cheeks warmed uncomfortably.

As if he had lost control of himself.

Where Yuuri the assassin faded away in that instance, leaving behind Yuuri the human to deal with the aftermath.

* * *

 

Despite knowing of its existence, Yuuri had never once stepped foot into the hot pools in the months he spent as Yuri’s attendant. Reason being, Yuuri quickly found out, the entrance was built in the rooms of the royal suites. Specifically, inside the bath rooms of the royal suites.

Offering Yuuri privacy, the prince gestured for Yuuri to prepare himself in the bath room, he himself waited patiently in the adjoining bedroom. Never once stealing a peek as Yuuri washed himself. A perfect gentleman – a sentiment that Yuuri the human appreciated, but disappointed Yuuri the omega and assassin.

Barely able to hold back the moue of disappointment, Yuuri cleaned up and covered himself with the designated towel. Snugly securing it to his trim waist, the towel fell to his mid-thighs and flashed a little indecent skin when Yuuri strode after the awaiting attendant.

The first thing that hit him, when the doors opened, was a pleasant heat that curled his hair. Carefully descending the short flight of stairs, Yuuri gaped at the hot pools before him. It was cavernous, dug deep underground, built completely out of obsidian rocks that glowed an orangey-red from the lit torches. Various crevices scattered around the place, some glowing darkly when the light from the torches fell short of illuminating them.

A comfortable silence blanketing it, only broken by the lilting murmurs of tinkling water. Streams of running water trickling down from the rocks, depositing into the sizeable pool, right in the middle of the warmly-lit cavern.

Carefully walking over the wet, uneven yet smooth rocks, Yuuri toed the steaming waters. Glancing uncertainly at the attendant, he slowly stepped into the pool upon the nod of assent from the retreating middle-aged attendant.

Yuuri waded across the pool, finding a comfortable nook to settle down in. He was near the edge furthest from the door, when he stumbled across a cosy corner rather literally. Only his assassin training saved him from an embarrassing dive into the waters, yet did not censor the undignified squeak of surprise that echoed across the hot pools.

“Is this to your liking?” The sudden timbre of velvety tenor sent Yuuri tumbling forward in surprise once more, having not detected the prince’s presence. A burst of exclamation and splashing water angrily broke through the tranquil silence. Warm hands holding on to Yuuri’s arm and waist, steadying him. Grounding him with the heat.

Yuuri fervently thanked the prince, gracelessly sinking into the carved seats with haste, cheeks burning with fierce embarrassment, eyes stubbornly staring at an interesting rock crevice instead of the deliciously warm body seated beside him.

“This is gorgeously divine,” the prince moaned in wanton relief, eyes slipping closed in an imitation of being in the throes of passionate desire. Yuuri couldn’t help but be drawn to that sigh of pleasure, the look of utter arousing bliss that coloured the prince’s face. Licking his suddenly-dry lips, Yuuri had to clear his throat a few times before he could agree with the prince’s sentiments without dangerously cracking his voice.

As though reading the increasingly sexual thoughts running through Yuuri’s head, supplied by his troublesome omega, the prince cracked open a beautifully clear blue eye and _smirked._ The nerve of him, Yuuri thought in part-despair, part-arousal.

The pair soaked in companionable silence, relaxing under the gentle ministrations of the warm waters. They chatted – not of the political variety, but of personal stories that elicited heart-fluttering chuckles and sometimes, outright voracious laughter and undignified snorts.

Yuuri learnt more about the prince – his younger antics that drove his parents wild. The untold mischief he had gotten himself and his twin brother into when they were mere children. And the prince learnt more about Yuuri’s younger days, unwittingly shared by Yuuri, guided by an unerring sense of trust towards the silver-haired alpha.

A long, distant toll of a bell reverberated through the hot pools, startling the pair from their reverie.

“That’s the dinner bell,” the prince absent-mindedly informed. “I didn’t realise that we spent the past hour and a half in here.”

“It was enjoyable,” Yuuri blurted out, his control over his mouth having been lost once more. Though he did not regret his impulsive words at the startled look and subsequent glow of joy from the prince.

“Truly? We can – will – should come back here again tomorrow, together,” Prince Vitaly stuttered and stumbled across his offer. Yuuri giggled at the flustered prince, promising for another soak in the hot pools, once every day until he had to leave.

Beaming, the prince stood and offered a hand to Yuuri, offering to help him out of the pool. Yuuri was about to place his onto the prince’s awaiting hand before something else pulled his attention away.

The markings of a faint bruise – several bruises, Yuuri noted in shock as he scrutinised carefully, littering the shoulders and torso of the prince. A few peeked out from beneath the ebony towel hanging snugly around the prince’s hips. Sickly-yellow discolouration that contrasted starkly against the creamy white skin on display.

Following Yuuri’s riveted gaze, the prince’s face tensed in worry. “Solnyshko…”

“Pardon my insolence, Prince, but…” Yuuri uttered warily, cautiously. Sneaking glances to gauge the tense expression of the prince.

“You’re not. Do not apologise for showing concern, solnyshko,” the prince softened his expression. “These were from my sparring matches. Rather nasty, aren’t they?” He chuckled blithely.

Too smooth an answer that Yuuri couldn’t accept. His omega couldn’t accept it either, not without a satisfactory reason.

For they knew the nature of those bruises.

Fading they may be, but the distinct, tell-tale hand and finger indents imprinted onto the prince’s skin was something they were familiar with. Something they had given before – as punishment.

Marks that claimed, born from a primitive urge to stake possession. Not marks borne from endless physical training and swordfights that the prince partook in.

A low, unbidden snarl of utter fury slipped past the brunette’s lips unconsciously, both Yuuri and omega in tandem for once that day. Pheromones blazing out of control, at how his prince had been roughly bruised and marked like an animal. Serene face twisted into a scowl of distaste and anger at the assailant.

It was _unacceptable._ For his prince to bear such cruel marks, it was unforgivable. Undeniably so.

Yuuri and his omega howled for blood-letting. To strike back at whoever harmed the prince in such an unsightly manner. To return them the favour for what they had done to mar the prince’s skin.

Alarmed at the sudden shift in the gentle brunette’s demeanour, Prince Vitaly rushed forward, long fingers cupping Yuuri’s cheek and stroked gently. A mix of calming pheromones and winter-scented pine twined around the pair, cradling Yuuri in calming waves.

“Shh, it’s okay. They don’t hurt, I swear. Please, don’t be angry,” he murmured. The velvet tenor grounding Yuuri back to the present. Fingertips touched his locked jaws, lightly lifting his chin up to let their eyes meet.

A strange, keen sense of arousal seared through Yuuri at the wound-up prince. Yuuri’s own raging pheromones had sparked a heat of arousal in the alpha, the sudden burst of killer intent enticing him. Beckoning him. Despite not being the main aim of his fury, Yuuri was savagely glad that he had elicited such a primal reaction from the prince.

Feeling confidence well up in him, Yuuri breathily requested, “May I?” Golden flecks had started to form in his darkening russet-hued orbs. The beautiful combination leaving the prince stunned for a few good seconds before he shakily nodded his assent, throat bobbing in the wake of a Yuuri who did not hesitate to exploit his seduction.

Gentle hands lightly touched the fading bruises on the prince’s shoulder, the muscles beneath tense and quivering. In the same light manner, Yuuri traced each visible bruise – carefully, as though the prince would break under pressure. The prince shivered, as Yuuri let his hands roam to the next bruises, as he kept moving down the chiselled torso.

His hands settled on the prince’s hips, right over where the bruises lay. A warm pressure, not too forceful, but a gentle force that had the prince exhaling shakily. Thumbs circled the heat-warmed skin, small circular motions, slowly straying away from propriety and skimming across the moist towel.

Dipping his thumbs just slightly into the towel was what undid the prince. A guttural growl rumbled from deep within the alpha. His hands, firmly placed on Yuuri’s shoulders as an anchor, curved up on their own accord. Caressing the sensual slope of the brunette’s neck and cupping his slender face.

Darkened oceanic orbs, lightly flecked with silver, met Yuuri’s russet-gold orbs with heated arousal, before Yuuri felt his chin tipped upwards once again. His eyes involuntarily slipped shut as the softest, petal-like pressure pressed onto his lips. One, two pecks of lips.

Chaste kisses that gave way to something more, when Yuuri took the lead and parted his mouth, lightly sucking on the plump bottom lip with forced gentleness. Unwilling to scare his prey away.

Taking it as his cue, lips parted, and a tongue swiped out curiously, only to be playfully nipped at. Another growl rumbled through them, and Yuuri gasped as white-hot arousal curled deep in his belly/

Stripping away all pretence of gentleness, the kiss deepened and plummeted straight into downright hot and dirty. Hands scrambled to find purchase, roaming and mapping each other’s bodies in a frenzy. Towel barely staying put.

Heat and arousal and want coursed through Yuuri’s veins like an addictive drug. The combined scents of arousal given out by the pair heightening his senses even further, stoking the fire within as it burned and burned. They were both a dishevelled mess when they parted, panting for air. Pupils fully blown, irises having darkened until they were almost completely consumed.

As the lust accumulated, scents of arousal oversaturating the hot pools and overpowering their senses, Yuuri instinctively knew what had been triggered.

But before his thoughts could properly form, he was dragged back into another hot, drugging kiss that stole his breath away. He moaned, wanton and wanting, into the kiss, stepping forward and feeling the aftereffects when they touched. Chest to chest, hip to hip.

A frisson of excitement zipped along his nerves, emboldening him. Another step forward. More contact. One more growl pulled out from the highly-strung alpha.

“Prince Vitaly,” a soft expulsion of air stirred.

“Don’t call me that,” the prince suddenly hissed, rearing back to fully face Yuuri. “Never call me that when we’re alone.”

Stunned, Yuuri could only mutely nod.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to scare you,” the prince crooned an apology, stroking Yuuri’s soft skin once more. Yuuri melted under his embrace, forgiveness ready on his tongue as long as he kept kindling the burning flame in him.

“Call me Vitya.

“And I think you should leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !
> 
> c:


	12. Chapter 12

Body chilling after being suddenly, and almost unceremoniously, tossed out from the prince’s bedroom, Yuuri had to suppress an annoyed growl from having been separated from his prey just mere seconds before he sunk his teeth into that beautiful flesh, mottled with bruises as it may be right now. Clad in a thick wool robe, Yuuri sat in the parlour, unimpressed. Waiting for a servant to fetch him a set of appropriate attire instead of scandalously walking through the corridors with nothing but a robe retaining his modesty.

Meanwhile, a handful of servants were hurrying in and out of the suite and the inner bedroom, carrying in vials of oils and baskets laden with dry food and drinks. A hasty preparation to tide the prince over in his unexpected rut. A kind young beta stopped by Yuuri with a serving of hot tea, stoking the lit fireplace to keep the parlour warm.

The door to the bedroom opened and closed in quick succession. The indescribable, heady scent of a virile male in rut escaped during those moments, teasing and testing Yuuri’s mental fortitude. An alluring beckon that had Yuuri leaning forward. His muscles and tendons tensed and raised, as though to leash him to the insufferable armchair.

After an agonising wait, the buzz faded and an apologetic servant handed him a set of shirt and pants to tide him over the day, until his own clothes were washed and sent back to his quarters. Yuuri slipped into the silken garments, the irritation prickling his skin, urging him out of the too-hot robes. An enticing scent wafted and he leaned for a deeper whiff.

Pine and water and musk.

The Prince’s – no, _Vitya’s_ scent; his clothes adorning Yuuri. The realisation made him giddy with pleasure and possession, as he took in another lungful of that intoxicating mix.

As though his muddled brain was electrocuted, he was suddenly aware of his audience – the servant waiting patiently, and no doubt having witnessed his minute but perverse act. Blush staining his cheeks, Yuuri held on to the remaining scraps of his dignity and left the suite, tight-lipped.

* * *

 

The further he walked from the suite, the hotter his body grew. A slow ignition that was giving way to a firestorm that burned and pricked at his skin. The corridors were chilly, much colder than the fire-stoked parlour, and the stark contrast in temperature sent multiple shivers down Yuuri’s back. His belly clenched, and his gut twisted, the chill seeping straight into his bones. Sucking the heat from his core.

But Yuuri felt hot.

He felt cold.

Undeniably shivering, from his insides to his trembling limbs.

The servant who offered to escort him back to his quarters had been curtly dismissed back at the prince’s suite entrance. A mistake that Yuuri sorely grieved.

He was all alone in the long, dim corridor. He was chilled to the bones in the thin silk garments. Yet he was parched, wanting to remove the clothes to escape the building heat.

His sight was becoming blurry by the minute. A nasty din in his head that muffled his thoughts and muddled his memory. As though someone had flung a heavy blanket to dampen his senses, rendering his trained instincts useless.

Pomegranates.

He could smell the faintest hint of sweet pomegranates.

Bleary-eyed, Yuuri stumbled after the sweet scent that hooked his attention. Another faint, sweet smell had intermingled with it. Bright and citrusy – oranges.

One moment, Yuuri was staggering alone in the corridor. The next, he was smothered in those mouth-watering aromas. Worried voices trying to cut through the bubble drowning him, their words garbled and dampened into nonsense.

Yuuri was hot.

He was uncomfortably hot, and _those clothes needed to go now_.

Feverish hands struggled to remove those despicable buttons and buckles, though a hiss and a snarl later had him ripping through the buttons. He sighed in relief as cool air swept away the heat from his skin.

A frantic buzz resounded against his deafened ears, warm hands touching him. Pulling him. He tried to pull away, but he was outnumbered. His steps trembled as he followed their lead, the din in his head increasing with every step he took. As though reminding him that he was forgetting something; leaving something important behind.

A low whine crept up his throat, his mind completely lost to the haze of the heat engulfing him.

“ _Alpha._ ”

“ _Vitya._ ”

* * *

 

Long slender hands shook as they crumpled the telegram in worry and rage, the silver ring cutting deep into his flesh.

“We’re postponing this meeting. Make sure it doesn’t happen again while I’m away,” he barked in barely restrained anger. “Prepare a carriage. I’m leaving by the next hour.”

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now, when he was away.

They were supposed to be in sync. They have always been in sync.

Always.

It just wasn’t possible.

Something must have happened to his beloved brother. Something terrible enough to induce such an early rut.

A cloud of fear and worry threatened to fog his senses. The stability of his life cracking underneath his feet; little cracks that spread like a parasitic web. Spreading further, feeding off his volatile emotions like a ravenous vulture.

He had unfinished business, but he had to leave. Now.

He needed to take care of his brother, for he must be suffering now without him by his side.

* * *

 

Yuuri felt horrible. Emptiness hollowed out his bone, leaving behind an ache that never went away. It was one of the worst heats he had to suffer through, an unintentional one at that. At least his original excuse for absence from the palace turned true. Yuuri chuckled mirthlessly at the irony.

A brief rap on the ornate doors reverberated through his skull, a mild headache twinging alive. The door creaked open and a slim figure slipped in before shutting it quietly, the scent of pomegranates wafting towards him with every muted step.

“Yuuri, _Sir_ ¸ how are you feeling?” Phichit puttered about, china cups clinking lightly.

“The absolute _worst_ ,” Yuuri rasped, his throat itchy and sore from his four days of solitude in the heat room. The wanton moans and pleas for Vitya to come to his side a ghostly whisper that caressed his memories. He flushed lightly with mortification – he had never yearned for another to share his bed nor his heat, much less alphas whom he always tried to keep a distance from. Not after that trauma from ten years ago.

“Drink,” ordered Phichit. Yuuri dutifully swallowed the warm water offered to him under the watchful gaze of his best friend, a subtle glare – worried but still angry, hidden in Phichit’s dark orbs. Once the cup was empty, Phichit replaced it with another. The warmth and fragrance emanating from the new cup of green tea, infused with jasmine flowers, had Yuuri relaxing into the plush pillows and duvet that covered his modesty.

He sipped on his tea, letting his senses refocus as he languidly tracked Phichit’s graceful movements. The dark-skinned omega, despite his exuberant nature, was still trained by Lilia and Minako, like himself. His every dip and twirl from his toes to his fingertips an enthralling performance that lured the unsuspecting in.

With the last soft sponge cake placed delicately onto a matching china plate, Phichit proffered the sweet delicacies to Yuuri. Energised from the sweet jasmine tea, Yuuri nibbled lightly on them, holding back a moan of delight. Those were definitely cakes baked under the careful watch of the brusque head chef.

Refilling Yuuri’s cup of tea and pouring another for himself, Phichit settled down beside him. Yuuri took comfort and leaned against Phichit, the two sharing cakes and tea serenely.

“Better?”

“Much. Thanks, Phichit.”

“The King returned yesterday.” The soft but sudden interjection broke the lull of silence. Yuuri’s brows shot up in surprise. “He went straight to Prince Vitaly’s suite, not even bothering to change out of his travelling cloak,” Phichit continued in hushed tones. “Demanded to be let in. But the Prince – boy, he must have pure alpha blood coursing through him because he ordered his own brother to stay out of his room.

“The other servants were there – mainly betas. I was the only omega, hidden as usual. But all of us felt the Alpha Command ramming straight into our secondaries. Even the King wasn’t spared. You could definitely see the King struggling against the first Command and the second immediately hit him, to order him to return to his own suite. The King did that and walked away, body coiled as if he was trying to physically resist the Command. It was only after he left the wing that the rest could breathe.”

Yuuri sat, awestruck at the events that transpired while he was preoccupied. The mention of the alpha in rut – _his Vitya_ ¸ as what his omega liked to croon teasingly, having such control and dominance sent a wave of arousal shuddering through his body. What would it be like if he witnessed that Command, experienced it first hand? Would he be able to resist it? _Did he want to_ – that was the question his lustful omega teased relentlessly.

“Ew Yuuri, cut that out. I know you’ve got the hots for him, but your pheromones are stinking up this room again,” Phichit cried in exasperation. One hand pinching his nose in mock frustration, the other trying to fan away the stench.

“Sorry,” Yuuri apologised sheepishly, fighting to get his omega and arousal under control. His inner omega, still under the spell of the fading heat pheromones, grumbled in annoyance. Yearning for the presence of their missing pair, even though the pomegranate-scented omega did wonders to calm its itch. Yuuri dismissed the whines of his omega without batting an eyelid, the ironclad will and rationality wrestling control.

“What happened, Yuuri?” The silence was once again broken by Phichit. His curiosity, previously suppressed out of concern for his friend, now blatantly sparking in his dark eyes. Yuuri hummed noncommittedly, groaning slightly when his best friend remained undeterred from the truth. “Stop hiding the juicy facts, _Sir Yuuri_. Your heat wasn’t supposed to be this early. What triggered it?” Phichit was unremittingly firing questions and statements, one after another.

“I really don’t know, Phichit,” confessed Yuuri. “All I know is that my omega is insanely attracted to the Prince, ever since we met and danced during the Harvest Festival.”

“The Harvest Festival?! And I’m only hearing it now, months after?!” Phichit wailed in mock protest, grasping a nearby pillow and giving Yuuri an indignant smack. Yuuri shushed Phichit, gesturing for him to lower his voice. Though he took the beating in stride, knowing that he deserved it for withholding such ‘prime information’ from Phichit.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t think it too important then,” Yuuri tried to explain in hushed tones. “Even during the trip to the branch family, my omega wasn’t affected despite the increased interaction with the Prince. Though sometimes, she’d stir a little when the King and Prince were interacting with each other – it’s odd, I know. But I definitely felt _something_.

Then this invitation to the castle happened and my omega started harbouring intentions towards the Prince.”

“Intentions?”

“Like a sort of… wanting to claim? It became obvious when the Prince invited me to the Hot Pools –“

“Wait, the Prince invited you to the _royal family’s Hot Pools_?” Phichit interrupted once more, mouth hanging in disbelief.

“Yes Phichit, the very same,” Yuuri chuckled at his friend’s mystified expression. He would have had the same reaction too, for entry to the Hot Pools was extremely restricted to the royal family and a select few who maintained it.

“I went in first and the Prince followed a few minutes later. We were just soaking and when we were getting out, things started becoming crazy.”

“Crazy as in, you saw his naked chest and decided to jump him in the waters?”

“Close enough,” Yuuri deadpanned. “Would have if he let me. My job would have been much easier too.”

Phichit covered his mouth, equally scandalised and proud at his growing son. The corners of his shit-eating grin peeking out from either sides of his hand. Yuuri threw a pillow at him in exasperation before continuing, “We saw scars and bruises on the Prince’s body. The scars were old and faded. But the bruises – those were a few days old, maybe close to a week.

“But that’s not it.

“Those bruises, they were in the shapes of hands; fingerprints,” Yuuri uttered solemnly. Russet orbs beseeching Phichit to understand. The soft but harsh gasp of realisation had Yuuri nodding grimly. They both knew those markings too intimately and too well.

“It can’t be…” Phichit trailed off.

“I tried probing, but he deflected it. Like a true diplomat and negotiator,” Yuuri huffed in annoyance.

“That was also when my omega reared and turned completely angry and possessive,” he confessed, blushing at his next words. “We wanted to erase those marks. Cover them with our own. That feeling of murderous rage and proprietorial – I’ve never felt them before, not to this degree.

“And that was when things started to turn downhill, I suppose. We barely made it to the bedroom and I got thrown out of the suite not too long later. The Prince realised that he entered a sudden rut and didn’t want to force it upon me. But he didn’t realise that my heat was also somehow triggered.”

“Interesting,” Phichit hummed as he quietly processed the events that transpired. “I don’t exactly know if ruts and heats can be triggered by proximity to certain people, but it’d seem so in your case. Unless there are aphrodisiac properties of the Hot Pools which we don’t know about, that would make them hot and exclusive.” He wagged his eyebrows teasingly, snickering at the look of blasphemy on Yuuri’s face.

“Something doesn’t quite add up though,” Phichit muttered, cogs in his mind whirring as he re-analysed Yuuri’s account. “Your omega’s interactions during that branch family trip. You said that they were acting as expected, yes?”

“Affirmative,” Yuuri said unhesitatingly with a nod.

“It’s just a theory but we should keep an eye on it. See if it’s true.”

“My time here as the Prince’s guest is limited, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“If that’s the case then, rest up, my dear esteemed guest. Replenish your energy and go wild before you need to go home,” Phichit cheered with a lascivious wink, walking out of the heat room with a flourish. Yuuri flushed in response, as his omega, and his nether regions, perked in interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my lovely readers who are still around to read this chapter, THANK YOU FOR STAYING BY ME ❤︎  
> This chapter took a little longer than I expected because of various reasons (work, cross-continental relocation and I didn't have time to mentally/emotionally recuperate before another being hit by another draining crisis). I am truly sorry for keeping you waiting, and am grateful that you're still there!
> 
> **Notice on next few chapters' updates** :  
> I'm (intentionally) taking a short break from Wallflower because I'm revising the ending. I felt that it's not as good as it should be, and that is not something I'd write and post and let you guys suffer through. I need time to go through and rewrite it out, and I ask for your understanding for the longer break before next chapter is ready for posting.  
> Of course, I would be extremely open and thankful if any of you want to pitch in ideas/theories for the ending! Or even subsequent chapters. If they fit, I will incorporate them and properly credit you :)
> 
> Another main reason is, I'm in my final stages of editing and proofing for Big Bang!! On Ice.   
> Please keep a lookout for it, titled **Kairos** , near the end of February! I'm excited to share this story with you, and hope that it's something novel in the AO3 world of YOI. (Definitely with YuurixViktor pairing ;) )
> 
> Cheers and see you soon in my next post!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you like it, please leave some kudos or comments (or stay a silent ghost reader, I'm fine with that too!) :)
> 
> Tags will be added when new development appear along the way
> 
> [World Building](https://kiryouya.tumblr.com/post/166102287193/wallflower-world-building)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kiryouya) to discuss story plots, theories or to simply chat and share ideas. Or maybe yell at me for putting y'all through all this waiting shit and dumping omegas into precarious situations even though some of them are pretty badass


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